


The Test of Honor

by Rawks



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Adventure, Agravaine - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Aredian - Freeform, BAMF Merlin, Bath Sex, Bayard - Freeform, Birger, Blow Jobs, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Bottom Merlin, Brigitta, Camelot, Catrina - Freeform, Cenred - Freeform, Dancing, Darren - Freeform, Dennett, Distrust, Dragonlord Merlin, Drunken Confessions, Elena - Freeform, Elsthyr, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emrys worship, Execution, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Fix-It, Galorian, Gorlois - Freeform, Hair Washing, Happy Ending, Hilde - Freeform, Holden - Freeform, Hunith - Freeform, Kolby, Lady of the Lake - Freeform, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Magic Revealed, Magical Artifacts, Manath, Minor Character Death, Mystery, Odin - Freeform, Politics, Rescue Missions, Roslyn - Freeform, Secret Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Tavern, Trapped, True Love's Kiss, Tybalt - Freeform, UST, Undressing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Uther's Manservant, Wall Sex, Weston, bottom!Arthur, ygraine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:57:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 297,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawks/pseuds/Rawks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin loses Freya and is off-kilter for a while. When a monster appears he misses a crucial piece of information which Prince Arthur is able to uncover. Things seem to go south when Merlin's magic is revealed. But as the stakes change with the arrival of King Galorian, Arthur has a change of heart. He begins to break away from his father's reign and acknowledges magic for what it is. Merlin's priority remains his devotion to Arthur, and he will do everything to prove it. The five kings visit Camelot and decide the political future, while Merlin and Arthur try to work out who is trying to destroy it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizlybear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizlybear/gifts).



> This fanwork is my submission for the [After Camlann Big Bang 2016](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/After_Camlann_Big_Bang). The beautiful cover art is by [Sexgenius](http://sexgenius.tumblr.com/). Other artworks in the fic are my own.
> 
> With many thanks to [Pendragonns](http://pendragonns.livejournal.com/), my amazing Beta reader.
> 
> Note: the þ symbol used in magic spells is pronounced th. Some magic is directly taken from the show, the original spells are my own gibberish. 
> 
> The story is placed in a more mature setting starting late Season 2 which should have been a turning point. We fall directly into S2E9: Lady of the Lake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin loses Freya and is off-kilter for a while. When a monster appears he misses a crucial piece of information which Arthur is able to uncover. Things seem to go south, but as the stakes change with the arrival of King Galorian, Arthur has a change of heart. Warnings for mentions of graphic violence and molestation.

 

 

  
  
Beautiful artwork by [Sexgenius](http://sexgenius.tumblr.com/)

  
**\-----1 Merlin-----**

She was the cause, Merlin now realized. Freya, the girl he rescued from the bounty hunter’s cage and hidden in the catacombs. It was her. Six people had died, and yet he could not stop his heart’s longing. Had she lied to him? No, he decided. His conclusions were his own, no false words had passed her lips. Yet it stung.

It had been so important to Merlin to discover more about himself, and to see the face of one that shared his fate stare back at him with renewed hope. A hope he thought he could never share with anyone because he was condemned to deny it. The hope of acceptance.

But in a sick twist, he understood her curse. She was the killer. And she knew about him. It was clear that she cared too much to reveal him, and that he cared too much to persecute her. They were in this together. His longings, normally burrowed deep within his heart, were so close to the surface. He was unable to keep himself from seeing her again and trying to find a way to rescue her.

“You really don’t realize how special you are, do you?” he whispered to her in the darkness.

“You’re not scared of me?”

“Being different is nothing to be scared of.” He offered her a reassuring smile.

She turned away. “I shouldn’t be alive.”

Merlin shook his head. “You have every right to be.”

In order for her to have any sort of life, he’d have to get her out of Camelot. In part he wanted to go with her and leave all of this behind. Leave the royal family and their absurd claims against the magic he believed to be beautiful and filled with goodness. To live a life without constant fear of discovery and persecution. But that day would not come for Freya. Or for him.

“I would go with you, Freya,” he said in a final, desperate fit. “If you trust in my magic enough, we can make it work.” He wanted it to be true.

As they looked at one another, realization struck them hard. Their eyes reflected this knowledge cruelly as they clung silently to any possible hope with the deepest desperation. He might have to get them out, but it would be impossible.

He had been accused of freeing the druid by Halig. If he left now with Freya; if the accused servant boy went missing the same day the deaths in town stopped, his persecution would be made reality. He saw in the reflection in her eyes that she understood this too.

“You are too sweet. But there is no such thing left for me.”

“I can’t—" Merlin felt the burn of tears. He could not give up on her. Even with his destiny tied to Camelot.

Freya explained to him in soft words that even if he came with her, they would be hunted.

Merlin shook his head. “I will take care of you, one way or another. We are of a kind.”

Hope was lost in her eyes and yet she thanked him.

  
**\-----2 Arthur-----**

Arthur sat in the council chambers with his father, Gaius, Leon, the council members, and several Lords who acknowledged King Uther’s summons for political discussion. These men, according to Arthur, were carefully selected to provide as little resistance to his father as possible. It was well known to him how his father loathed opposition. “And there are no other suspects?”

“Not yet, my lord,” Leon reported.

Halig, the foul-smelling bounty hunter, had come in from the countryside with an extremely dangerous druid. He was known in Camelot, but Arthur had not met the man personally until now. While he had done his rightful duty in bringing magic users before the court, Arthur’s opinion on the man was low. He had, after all, targeted Merlin and it reeked of conspiracy.

Targeting his manservant as a magic supporter out of the blue was a ridiculous notion. Arthur would deny it again today if it came up, because as far as Uther was concerned a culprit needed to be found.

Arthur sat beside his father and he could feel the man’s desperation to resolve this. The beast frightened his father, Arthur knew, but what scared him more was that the culprit would get away with it. Arthur felt conflicted. Bringing peace and safety to Camelot was the evident result the King had in mind, but his father’s attitude about it disgusted him, more than he could ever reveal.

“Expand your investigations,” his father said. “Find out how secure Halig’s cage was, talk to the persons lodging him, find out if he’d been drinking or if he has a history of falsehoods. Also find out if any other druids had come to trade in the lower town or within the citadel.”

Arthur shifted in his seat. Someone was to be hanged before the week was out. His father’s voice told him enough. Several people had been slaughtered by the beast, leaving the town in deep unrest. Each time Camelot was tried in this way, his father braved the people’s panic and provided solutions. The quicker the better.

It gnawed at him. Everything he understood regarding justice was being shredded and each year it got worse. He was just glad Morgana was not included in such meetings or she would have to witness firsthand the increasing paranoia and ruthlessness his father displayed.

Arthur wanted to know the truth.

“I will help with the investigations,” he heard himself say. For the truth, and, he admitted to himself—to prevent any further members of the household staff from facing persecution. “Whoever is involved won’t get away so easily.”

“Of course,” his father said. “Sir Leon, see to it that Arthur has your full support.”

Leon bowed his head and stood.

“And Gaius,” the King added. “Find out what this creature is.”

The physician regarded him steadily. “Might I request permission with Geoffrey to access some books, my lord?”

“Is that really necessary?” Uther sighed.

“The simple books I use are not always enough to find out about more… strange or exotic occurrences. I am limited in my ability to aid this investigation.”

“Yes, I know. I cannot have these books transported outside of Camelot. What they contain is too dark to bear. I have that responsibility—"

“I understand, sire,” Gaius said. “I only mean to look into them. If I may have your permission.”

Arthur contemplated about the existence of such dark information. It could fall into the wrong hands, especially those of the druid who was on the loose. He looked at his father and saw that he was contemplating the same. Arthur wondered what his father would say and waited while Uther carefully considered. His father had taught him so much already and with moments like these, when Arthur didn’t know what he would do, he knew he still needed his father’s guidance.

“You will have temporary permission from Geoffrey to look at the books in the vault,” Uther said, the decision made. “As soon as this is over you will return them immediately to his care.”

“Thank you, sire.” Gaius stood up to leave. “I will make every endeavor to provide you with answers shortly.”

The king nodded.

Arthur mused how Gaius had wound himself around his father’s finger. It was remarkable that only a few months back Arthur had learned that Gaius had once practiced magic. His father himself had told him of it, as if it were nothing. And here he was, ever assisting his king dutifully. He personally never doubted Gaius’s allegiance because every time Gaius promised something, Arthur had seen him work hard to deliver and provide good counsel. A pessimistic part of him was waiting for the day that Gaius would prove them wrong.

  
**\-----3 Merlin-----**

The alarm bells rung at dawn. Merlin awoke with a start and realized that the beast had struck again. He silently mourned that another family within the citadel would have to bury their children. He turned on his side, his back to the window, and his heart raced in his throat. He desperately thought about Freya’s fate. When he heard loud voices coming from the workshop he got up and dressed reluctantly.

A wooden pallet was being dragged into the workshop by several palace guards. Gaius removed the blood-soaked sheet and studied the body with a clinical detachment Merlin discovered he couldn’t mirror. The victim was a young boy no older than ten or eleven. “These wounds were not for feeding, they were executed in a blinding rage,” Gaius concluded soberly.

Merlin fled the workshop shortly after, when the boy’s family collected his body. Their sobs chased him down the hall and left him full of sick duplicity.

His resolve was set.

When he brought Freya one of Morgana’s dresses, after making it through an incredibly awkward moment with Arthur in the corridor, he went to find her. It was extra risky during the day, but there was no time to lose. If she killed tonight, she would be done for. “I will get you out of here,” Merlin said, his voice thick. “You will be free.”

  
**\-----4 Arthur-----**

Arthur was exhausted from his investigations. They had interrogated Halig and had discovered that the man had been drunk when the druid girl escaped. The tavern keeper, Evoric, had nearly thrown him out for approaching one of his daughters, Everilda, as if she had been a whore. He couldn’t deny that the man had a crude attitude, but even this surprised him.

What was worse, was that no new suspects had been revealed. The cage had been right in front of the tavern all evening and night, but Evoric was accounted for during the whole period, looking after his daughter. The nearby shopkeepers, stable boys, and even the guards stationed at night had been questioned as well.

Arthur returned to his room and wrote a report about their findings of the day when Morgana walked in. She looked smug as usual and was clearly coming to gloat about something. He put down his quill and gave her a challenging look.

“I heard about the event at the tavern.”

“News travels fast,” Arthur said.

“You mean gossip, of course. I know what you think of us women, but we need to stand up for each other sometimes.” Morgana narrowed her eyes.

“If any of my knights said anything about the investigation—"

“They did not,” she interrupted. “This came from the kitchens. Goldwine knows Everilda well. Arthur, do you know what this man did to her?”

Arthur lowered his gaze. “Yes, we have heard the account as well.”

Morgana’s stare was piercing. Arthur was familiar with her misgivings concerning what men without constraints got up to when they were drunk, and sometimes when they were not. She had been frequently warned during her upbringing that this might befall her; it had been used as a threat against her in case she thought to undertake anything by herself. Uther had convinced her over the years that men like that stood around every corner.

“He must pay.”

Arthur looked up at her. “There are punishments for that, Morgana. I’m sure you are well aware.”

But there was something Morgana wasn’t saying. Her brow furrowed and she pressed her lips together, searching for words. After a few moments she relaxed and walked over to the window. “And right now? He is still free to do as he pleases?”

“He is a means to an end. He can track down the druid girl.”

Morgana turned her back to Arthur. “Has he found her then?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then how good is he, really?”

“Morgana, it attacks each night. Only yesterday two citizens were brutally slaughtered! The town crier said they were young lovers who were outside to meet in secret. How is their fate any better?”

“They don’t live with the consequences like Everilda does.”

Arthur sighed as he stood up and walked over to her. There was something in Morgana’s voice that told him this wasn’t just about Everilda. He tried a different tactic. “I’m afraid too, but we have the bravest knights and we will defeat the beast. After that we will have Halig stand trial.”

“Don’t you see?” Morgana turned around to him. “Uther will not punish him, not as long as he brings us druids.”

Arthur made to reply to that but she interrupted him. “Can’t you see him for what he is? A nefarious fraud! He probably planned this all along!” With that she stormed out of Arthur’s room, leaving him speechless and confused.

He returned to his desk and sat. He suddenly felt uncertain. Arthur had always seen through Morgana’s determinations when others could not. Having grown up together, he knew more than anyone that she only took a stance when it truly mattered and her words were never trivial. He turned his thoughts back to their findings with new eyes.

What had he missed? What was overlooked? The shackles didn’t seem to have sustained any damage so they must have been opened with a key—or with magic, he assumed. He had doubted Halig’s involvement because why would the man celebrate with drink if he was about to let her out of the cage? Unless… He found himself rethinking. Was it by design?

Arthur regarded his account, the paper half filled, and he picked up his quill, pressed the point of it to a clear section and listed the reasons why the bounty hunter might have released the druid himself.

  
**\-----5 Merlin-----**

“Then I remembered what Halig said about the druid girl,” Gaius said, looking at Merlin with scrutinizing eyes. “She is cursed.”

Merlin feigned surprise and ignored the sick curl in his gut when Gaius didn't appear to notice anything wrong. Gradually, Merlin thought he was getting better at lying to his mentor, no matter how wrong it felt most of the time. “What’s that got to do with the monster?”

Gaius explained with patience that this curse transformed its victim at the stroke of midnight and turned it into a Bastet.

 _So_ , Merlin thought, _this curse had a name_. The druid girl was not a creature born of magic, but turned into magic by the wicked spell of an evil sorcerer. He had surmised that she was the cause of the nightly attacks. And yet, he had refused to fully believe it until this very moment.

Gaius read the expression on his face. “Did you release the druid girl?”

“Of course not!”

“There was a time when you thought twice before lying to me.”

Not as good as he thought then. He couldn’t deal with it, and so he defended her against Gaius. There was goodness in her. “I did what was right.”

Gaius shook his head, “You know the creature and the girl are one and the same.”

“You're wrong. Freya is just a girl.”

“Merlin, please think about what I'm saying. You know it is the truth. Where is she now?”

“I don’t know.” It made him nauseous to think about the consequences. He had already promised her.

“She has killed already, and she'll kill again.” Gaius hung his head and turned to walk towards the door of his workshop. “She can't stop herself.”

“Please, Gaius. Where are you going?”

“To Uther.”

“I'm begging you! Just give me some time to get her out of the city, please.”

“I'm sorry. I can't let more innocent people die.”

Merlin stared at Gaius in horror. The man who had willingly taken him in now condemned a girl without even knowing her. He felt gutted and betrayed.

This was the bane of being a monster.

  
***

Merlin was quiet at the banquet that evening. King Uther had put together a feast for the knights in order to prepare for that night’s hunt for the creature. What they didn’t know was that she was already gone. Along with it were Merlin’s final shreds of hope to be known as anything other than a monstrosity to anyone other than Gaius, whom he had been lying to mercilessly for the past few days.

Merlin watched as the knights drank to calm their nerves, clapping each other on the back reassuringly for boosts of confidence. Arthur drank calmly as his heart was the sort that sought to conquer the menace to his city’s people. Merlin stood beside him quietly, burning up on the inside.

He knew that Arthur wasn’t wrong, and that the citizens did not deserve to live in fear. And he knew Arthur had orders from his father to show no mercy, no matter what he saw. All Arthur and the king knew was that the source was magic and magic had to be destroyed. He wondered where she would turn up next.

 _Arthur, how could you not see beyond your father’s view?_ Merlin thought. Arthur turned around and looked at Merlin curiously. Merlin froze, terrified he’d been caught despite not saying a word.

“You’re awfully quiet. Didn’t it fit?”

“I’m sorry?” Merlin asked in a soft voice. Any louder and he knew his voice would crack from emotion.

“That dress. Don’t tell me, not your color after all?”

Merlin faked a laugh and refilled Arthur’s wine. The knights at the long dining tables were deeply involved in their own discussions on torches, lances, and spears to bring with them.

Arthur just stared up at Merlin. “You know,” he said, “it’s alright if you are afraid of this creature.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he assured Arthur, his tone steady for this particular answer.

“Most of my men are. They didn’t even get to see what it did to the bodies, like you did. That must have been awful.”

Merlin wanted to close his eyes at the misplaced compassion that he usually never received from the prince. It served only to wreck his nerves further. He nodded and stayed quiet. Arthur gave him one last look and leaned away to speak to Uther, who in turn addressed his manservant Holden. Holden’s surprised look announced nothing good.

Merlin comforted himself with the knowledge that Freya would be far away now. A new hope resolved within him that the next reports of her attacks would be vastly delayed.

  
**\-----6 Arthur-----**

Three guards held Halig down to the crude wooden chair placed in the dungeons of Camelot. Both the king and Arthur stood facing him. Sir Leon and Sir Kay stood beside them, regarding the bounty hunter with a steady glare.

“Sire, what is the meaning of this?” Halig turned his attentions directly to the king.

Uther and Halig had spoken on many occasions during his deliveries of druids from widespread regions within Albion. To Halig, this course of action was lunacy. It fueled Uther’s paranoia beautifully.

“It is not madness to be careful,” Uther sighed in a soft voice.

Arthur looked on with an unsteady gaze. If his father spoke in these soft tones it meant a cruel outcome with no room for discussion. He resisted the urge to speak up in favor of Halig, to return doubt to his father’s mind. Sometimes the merest suggestion would only steel his father’s resolve before the trials even began.

“I have not done anything wrong!” Halig cried. Arthur saw he was fighting not to wrench himself from beneath the guards. He said, desperate, “I have served you always, brought you seventeen druids over the last few years. You have benignly ended their lives as should be. This girl, she is the worst of them all, she—"

“There is no need to remind me of our business in the past. It is true you have brought druids before us and we have rid ourselves of them. It is also true that we count seventeen, if we do not count the one that was pregnant.” A triumphant glint entered Uther’s eyes. The king continued, “What you have brought into Camelot this time is different. It is dangerous.” He walked around Halig until the captive could not strain his neck any further.

Arthur regarded his father. He was a force to be reckoned with and Halig would know that soon enough. King Uther put fear into the hearts of his enemies with his mere presence. Arthur wasn’t so sure if he would one day be able to do the same.

“She is, my lord. She is most dangerous. She is the killing beast.”

“So you’ve told us, and yet you bring her here.”

“Yes, my lord. To be executed.”

The king hummed unimpressed and reappeared on Halig’s other side. Arthur glanced at Leon and Kay. The first looked rather uncertain at the proceedings, but Kay seemed to enjoy watching the man squirm. “To be executed. Yes. However, her shackles showed no sign of being broken.”

“She could not escape them. They were made of cold iron, her magic has no—"

“I know all about cold iron.” Uther’s voice was deceptively calm as he stopped pacing. “But it is clear that she either did that herself or she had help!”

“The boy!” Halig shouted.

“No such thing happened and you know it!” Arthur interrupted. His father silenced him with a glance. Uther wanted, needed to remain in control. Arthur bit his tongue and inclined his head, chastised.

“It was him!” Halig insisted.

“You were seen leaving the tavern, Halig, at a very late hour,” Uther said. “We have heard the account from Evoric, the tavern keeper.”

Halig sneered, “Sire, surely… this means nothing compared to the use of sorcery!”

“You are correct,” Uther said. “But it must be addressed that you had an objective and you failed to reach it. Perhaps you went to the druid girl instead—"

“No!”

“Unlocked her shackles, and—"

“No!” Halig sounded desperate. “When I came outside she was gone!”

Arthur grit his teeth. When he was _thrown out_ , more like. When he’d not even pulled up his breeches and stank of a week’s worth of ale. He balled his fists feeling helpless in his father’s presence. Despite the man’s diligent delivery of Camelot’s enemies, Arthur had no respect for the methods or means Halig chose to use.

“She was released into Camelot mere hours after you arrived, before even her presence was known to us in court. After you were drinking and with no marks to the irons or cage in which she was bound. You, sir, have wittingly brought murder onto our streets, a creature of magic, and a known danger to Camelot. My trained knights and my own son are going out tonight to fight the beast!”

“My lord, I—"

Uther loomed over him. “Do you know how to defeat it?”

“No. I only possess the shackles,” he whimpered, “but they are too small for the beast.”

“Can you stand against it?”

“No, sire.”

“Then you will remain in this cell until we find out what to do with you in the morning.” Uther turned to leave.

“No, wait! There’s one more thing!”

Uther did not stop to listen, but Arthur looked at Halig with fire in his eyes. “Speak up!”

“She changes at midnight.” Halig’s lip curled into a mean sneer. “If you can find her before then she is entirely helpless.”

“Leon, Kay,” Arthur said, “let’s go. We must start our search before the bell tolls. Guards, keep him under lock and key as per my father’s instructions.”

Arthur followed his father out of the dungeons, wondering if he would sentence Halig to death if they successfully slayed the beast, or if Halig would be free to scour Camelot once more. One attack on a tavern keeper’s daughter might not be enough to sway his father’s mind.

Still, they must kill that beast. They must!

  
**\-----7 Merlin-----**

That night Merlin awoke with a start when the alarm bells rung. He tried to convince himself that it could be anything, but his heart knew otherwise. Past his small window he heard the heavy feet of guards and whinnying of horses. He turned his back to it, determined not to get involved, but it was impossible to remain asleep knowing it might be her.

He raced out of the workshop, unconcerned with whether or not he would wake Gaius. He sprinted down the spiral staircase and through the corridors. Servants were up and running in panic, and he could hear shouting coming through the open windows. Merlin dashed through the main hallway and out into the courtyard.

He spotted the commotion and gasped helplessly. The knights had driven Freya into a corner and had wounded her with flaming spears and torches. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair hung thick in the air. Was he too late?

In the beast’s wails he heard Freya’s tears. The miserable growls echoed across the castle walls. They were equally terrifying and sad.

Arthur and the knights closed in, each seeking their own glory. There was no way to save her from the sharpened spears. Merlin came to stand behind the knights. The beast caught his eye and there was a moment of recognition.

 _Freya._ He called out to her mentally. No answer. She could not hear him, but she had seen him. It was clear to Merlin then that despite the curse there was always something of Freya left in the creature. He understood that she would be aware of each kill and the despair each dawn would bring. On reflex he brought down one of the overhanging gargoyles, which crashed onto the ground right in front of Arthur. Merlin drew a sharp breath at the realization of what he had just done.

Had he just attacked Arthur?

He hadn’t ever thought that he could put Arthur in such peril. What was he thinking? His stomach turned. He cared for Arthur more than anything. How had he just done this?

The Bastet flew away and though Merlin’s heart lifted he wondered if he’d done the right thing. Setting her free would undoubtedly be followed by more deaths. And yet, she was free. With it, a part of him was too.

Without hesitation Merlin rushed to the catacombs where the knights would not yet think to look and found the beast. The Bastet. It was docile under his touch alone. No one else in the world would understand how this weighed on him. He followed the beast deeper into the cold corridors until he saw Freya’s wounded form.

She was cold to his touch, shivering. She looked at him, then turned her glance away. “You must hate me.”

“No.” How could he?

“I’m a monster. I tried to tell you.”

“You mustn’t talk.”

“There was a man,” Freya said, “he attacked me. I didn’t mean to hurt him but I thought he was going to kill me.”

“It was an accident,” Merlin said.

“His mother was a sorceress,” Freya explained, gasping for breath. Merlin didn’t want to hear it, it hurt too much. He shook his head and stroked a hand through her hair to soothe her. “And when she found out that I’d killed her son, she cursed me to kill forever more.”

If magic brought her into this world, it must release her from this too. There had to be something. “I’m going to make you better, Freya!” He had to hold onto any belief of goodness inside of her, or even the creature she had become, or he would lose himself.

“No, Merlin. My wound is too deep.”

He shook his head, physically rejecting the idea. “I’m not leaving you here!”

When she closed her eyes and slipped from consciousness, Merlin felt desperate. 

Magic. There had to be someplace where he knew magic could guide him to the right state of mind again. Perhaps then he would find out what he had to do. He would not leave her here. 

In the darkest hour of the night he left the citadel with Freya. She was lighter in his arms than he had expected, but after several hours his muscles had started to burn. Each step shook her lightly and it rocked her in her sleep.

Merlin did not dare to wake her for fear she might protest. He walked the familiar path toward the lake where he knew magic was strong. The lake where he had defeated Sophia of Tír-Mòr, the lake which held Excalibur for him until the time Arthur needed to wield it. Although he did not understand the full power of that place, it was there. He had seen it with his own eyes. He had to reach it in time for her. For the goodness within her.

There was a moment when he rested that he thought she’d died already. His heart soured when he touched her cold skin until he felt the shallow rise and fall of her breath. “We’re almost there,” he assured her and he pushed aside the ache in his spine and the burn of his arms as he lifted her again.

It had to be the right way as the pull of magic was strong. He couldn’t stop now. Her blood was tacky on his fingers, and when Merlin thought he could no longer bear the thought of her life draining out of her, he still walked onward until, at dawn, he was at the water’s edge.

It was quiet and Merlin saw there were mountains in the distance. It reminded him of Freya’s story of her past. He observed with a knot in his gut how the eternal quality of the mountains stood in grand, cruel contrast of how brief and fickle Freya’s life had been. She looked at him with glazed eyes, too exhausted to speak. She had lost too much blood. He knew it and he saw in her eyes that she did too.

An echo carried over the lake. Suddenly a brilliant figure rose up from the water, radiating light over the ripples on the surface. Merlin looked away from Freya to gaze at the woman. She wore a long silver-green dress and her white blonde hair reached her knees in long swirling tresses. Her body radiated light and she had an ancient, serene quality to her that Merlin couldn’t quite explain. She was breathtaking and terrifying all at once.

Merlin held Freya close to him. The strange woman’s presence felt familiar to him, it called to him as the winds and the earth did. He felt her presence like a warmth to his face.

“Emrys,” the voice echoed, although her lips did not move.

That name again.

Merlin held Freya tighter.

“You’ve saved me,” she whispered against his skin.

“I couldn’t…” Merlin cried. Life left Freya’s body at last, and she went limp in his arms. "No!" The one person who could have understood him was now gone.

He wailed out loud and held her close to him and buried his head in her black hair. She had been his promise that something good might come out of magic, and yet he hadn’t been able to turn the tide for her. She had been an escape route, a release of his burden within Camelot to keep himself hidden. She was the only one who knew about him besides his mother, Gaius, and Lancelot. The only one who might have understood him…

“Emrys,” the echoing voice called again and the lady extended a hand. “You have brought her here.”

Merlin gathered Freya to himself. Maybe if he kept her warm, it would be enough. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and wiped a smear of blood from her face. He rocked her gently.

“You have saved her.”

“No,” Merlin said. “I watched her die.”

“The curse was removed upon her death. And now she will reside with us.”

Merlin looked up again. The woman was standing in the middle of the lake, on the water’s surface where it should be impossible to stand. It was magic. Her very essence was magic. Her powers fissured all around her and sent ripples across the water, breaking up her magnificent shining aura into dazzling ripples. Despite his inner wounds Merlin could not withstand the beauty and let his heart be filled by it.

“Take her then.” He offered Freya up. The woman’s magic was good. He could feel it.

She smiled, and she was at once his mother, Gwen, Morgana, and even Nimueh. She was Freya. And many other faces he had encountered or would encounter one day. She was not just all that was good, she was more than that. “Who…?” he started to ask, but at that very moment he felt Freya’s body lift in his arms.

His heart jumped a moment and he looked down hoping to see her eyes open once more. But they were closed. Her body was raised from the ground, being lifted out of his embrace by magic. He opened his arms.

“One day, you will return and we will repay you,” the lady said.

“We? I don’t understand.”

“Come to us in the hour of truth.” Freya’s body was submerged into the water. Her arms floated out to the side and her hair and clothes billowed out beside her. Her eyes were closed and she looked almost as if she was asleep. The magic in the air licked and bubbled around him, cradling him and finally, he took a deep breath and set his resolve to fully acknowledge that she was at last at peace.

When Merlin blinked his tears away and looked again, she was gone. There were no ripples on the surface, no trace of her ever being there. The lady was gone too and so was the magic. Not one indication showed that anyone besides him had stood there.

“Thank you,” he breathed, sitting for another hour to compose himself before returning to Camelot on foot, aching and cold.

During the long hours of walking through the early dawn he came to terms with Freya’s death and with the reconfirmation of his place within Camelot once more. The thick woodlands were tranquil and served to calm his heart. Moonlight struck down through the canopy and from time to time he heard a fox or a deer, or the faraway hoot of an owl. Life went on, as it always did and in doing so it balanced out to something that is at peace with itself. The enormity of it filled him with hope and with resolution as he made his return to Camelot.

When he stepped onto the Roman roads, which led to the last part of his route to the citadel, he picked up a dead branch and walked with it for a while, contemplating. Freya was freed now. She would not be alive but it was good enough. And he would never forget her, and in that she would live on. As did Will, and everyone else he knew who had died. They would each receive a place inside of him, carefully shut away so he might function again.

And he would live his life without recognition or acknowledgment, and that was that.

He could do it.

Several hours later, he felt slightly more relief as the surroundings became familiar. His place was at Camelot. His destiny. And everything he did would be secret and hidden once more. No one could know what he had done for Freya, not even Gaius. He could carefully shut these events behind the inevitable heavy doors of secrecy operating within him.

Once he got to the town’s gates he realized how hungry he was and that he would not have time to eat before Arthur’s day started. No time to sleep even. He sighed deeply and set his neutral facial expression into place before starting his tasks, which began with being yelled at for being late. As usual.

  
**\-----8 Arthur-----**

Two nights passed since the Bastet’s last attack. Halig was still in the cell and Camelot was announced safe at last. The only pressing issue was Halig’s fate, and Uther called the council to meet right after Arthur’s daily training session.

Arthur hadn’t seen Merlin attend him since breakfast. While he knew he shouldn’t worry, he did. Merlin was annoyingly quiet lately, leaving his quips hanging with curt nods and small bows. And now he was absent during the council meeting where Arthur could have used Merlin’s awkward looks to guide him through the upcoming trial.

Uther sat at the head of the table in the council chambers in full armor. He was cloaked, crowned, gloved, and branded with the Pendragon sigil that hung from a thick chain which rested on his broad chest. On his left sat Gaius and Geoffrey with Arthur, Sir Leon and Sir Caridoc on his right, and at the last seat sat Holden, Uther’s manservant and steward to the household, ready to take notes.

“Are you certain about this?” Uther demanded.

“A curse this powerful is not easily broken,” Gaius answered the king. “It must occur every night or not at all.”

“Sir Leon,” Uther said, “your reports?”

“The same, my lord,” Leon said. “There are no mentions of any killings in the way we have seen. The beast must be dead.”

“Then Arthur and our noble knights have successfully protected Camelot. I decree the streets cleared. Holden, have it announced at the courtyard. And share it with the servants, the news will travel faster.”

“What about Halig?” Arthur questioned. “We have not judged him yet.”

“Gaius?” Uther asked.

“It is unlikely that Halig opened the cage for any reason, knowing what she was,” Gaius said. “He exited the tavern after midnight and might have been in immediate danger himself of the beast’s onslaught. I believe him to be innocent of that, at least.”

Arthur studied him. It seemed that this conclusion was uneasy to Gaius. He considered Gaius’s point of view; Halig was innocent of opening the cage, but probably guilty of attacking Everilda. Arthur was certain that Gaius would have been asked to examine her after the event, and it made him uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat.

“Arthur?”

“I believe he must be punished for what we know he certainly did. By the laws of these lands, he should not leave the city without being tried.”

“For touching a common lass?” His father clearly thought the notion was absurd.

Leon was studying the wood of the table, picking at it with a finger.

“Exactly for that,” Arthur said with confidence. “Our streets should be safe from more than one kind of monster, and this includes those who break our laws. Even if they have done good work for us in the past.”

Uther regarded him and nodded. “Very well. Bring forward the witnesses. His trial starts today and we hold him to our laws.” The disappointment was clear in his voice. Arthur nodded towards him. Morgana would be pleased, even if his father was upset with potentially losing an ally in the war on magic.

It would be two days later that Arthur would receive word that Halig had been released after all. And on his father’s orders.

  
**\-----9 Merlin-----**

It was a week later that a surprising turn of warm late autumn weather offered all of Camelot blue skies and glorious warmth from the sun. It presented an opportunity for all of the knights to practice their skills outdoors. For Merlin this meant ducking in and out of tents all day, toiling along the grass and mud, all the while being burdened with weapons and gear. And it meant lots and lots of polishing. The sun and scents around him did him a world of good though. All of the physically draining work had taken his mind off recent events and Merlin had started to feel better at last.

Prince Arthur had picked up on this and assumed this to be an invitation to start bullying him more. “Are you quite done with that yet?” Arthur gestured at the large round wooden shield Merlin was cleaning.

Merlin looked at the old shield he had been trying to polish free of mud stains and tufts of grass stuck between the narrow cracks and brass knobs. Nothing short of magic could return it to its proper state. “My arm has just fallen off so I would say yes,” he complained.

They were inside Arthur’s red-and-white tent, which was pitched along the training fields behind Camelot. The grounds served as tournament and jousting location, and provided excellent outdoor entertainment, as well as a place for training and daily practice routines for the knights and their squires. All were in desperate need of training, according to Arthur. Out of the sun the autumn air was fresh and the draft through the tent was cold on Merlin’s cheeks.

“I doubt that,” Arthur said. “Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

Merlin grinned at Arthur and handed him the shield.

Arthur didn’t pick it up but smiled at Merlin instead. “Seeing as your arm is still quite attached, I’d say you can work it a bit more.”

The grin faded from Merlin’s face. “What?”

Arthur threw his head back and laughed. Arthur’s proximity had always been a great comfort to Merlin. He was strong and confident. As well as a total pompous prat. All of Merlin’s fears and doubts didn’t seem to matter so much when Arthur was so eager to display his energy and vigor. And when he laughed, it almost seemed as if there were no problems at all.

“Take it outside. We can’t have you sitting in here sulking again.”

“I’m not sulking!” he protested. Besides, his shoulder was quite sore from all the polishing. Reflecting on that, he realized he shouldn’t have brought it up. Prince Arthur’s lopsided smile was proof of that.

“Go on then.” Arthur picked up a morning star and advanced.

Merlin stepped back out of the tent, herded by Arthur’s broad body, which was well protected by his gambeson, hauberk, and pauldron. Merlin only had the shield and a self-preservation that drove him backwards towards the training ground.

“You can hold this off, surely.” Arthur lifted the weapon and it clanged loudly against the shield.

Merlin staggered at the impact but managed to steady himself at the last moment.

“Good,” Arthur said and swung again.

On the second hit Merlin dropped the shield and ducked below it.

Arthur shook his head. “Up and again.”

Merlin swallowed and scrambled to his feet. He gave Arthur an apologetic smile, wanting to clarify somehow that he wasn’t built for this, when Arthur started swinging his weapon in earnest. Merlin could only lift the shield at the very last moment. If he hadn’t…

“Oh come on!” Merlin said. He felt the burning stares of the other knights behind him. He knew they were watching. Laughing. Was it Arthur’s sole purpose to humiliate him?

“Is that what you would tell our enemies on the battlefield, Merlin?” Arthur mused.

He waited for Merlin to steady himself and attacked again. Merlin steeled his resolve and withheld several more blows until Arthur was satisfied. When he didn’t hear the swing of the chain anymore, he dropped the shield, entirely fatigued.

“I only held back a little,” Arthur grinned, squinting against the sun.

Merlin gave Arthur a challenging look. “This is because I called you fat, isn’t it?” he said with his chin held high.

Arthur turned his head away, glancing at the other knights who were watching them from a distance. Merlin’s words hadn’t carried that far. “Maybe,” he said, “but it’s better seeing you like this than with all that gloom on your face.”

The grin Arthur gave him then made him smile despite himself. Even with the hard work and the constant challenges, it was easy to be around Arthur. No, he quite liked the challenges in fact, even if they sometimes hurt. Where he had once wished to reveal his magic to Arthur, he now understood that it was impossible to do so and remain his devoted, loyal servant at the same time.

The latter was far more important.

He could not imagine a world which didn’t revolve around Arthur. His personal wishes did not matter and they never would. Neither would the feelings he had developed for that clotpole of a prince. He had it well under control, just like everything else.

Arthur walked past him and picked up the large shield with one hand, while Merlin had needed both. “Now I’ll show you how it’s done. Watch closely.”

Merlin spent the next hour watching the men train and produce the next pile of polishing and cleaning work for him. Each time they skidded across the field or rolled around in a pool of mud, Merlin became more certain his arm would actually fall off before the day was out.

Arthur fought with a two-handed longsword and shield, and then changed to a spear and mace. During all of which he managed to get grass and dirt all over his clothes and mail. As Arthur trained, Merlin watched. Joining Arthur on the field were Sir Bedivere, Sir Caridoc, Sir Kay, several squires, and the armorer. The knights were formidable fighters, providing ample resistance to the prince’s energetic routine.

Merlin sat on a bound pile of hay stacks and used a whetstone to sharpen one of the axes. But what he was really doing was daydreaming. The knights’ routine had turned to hand to hand combat and later to wrestling. Pauldrons, hauberks, and vambraces were removed. Gambesons were shrugged off. Some of the men’s shirts were removed and Merlin quietly took it all in. He’d stopped his work entirely. So absorbed had he become, that he failed to notice the shadow looming up beside him.

Arthur suddenly dumped a willow basket filled with dirty clothes and armor in front of him. The prince crossed his arms. He was down to wearing his white undershirt, stained at the elbows with green and over his chest with sweat. “Are you getting a sunburn?”

Merlin looked away instantly. “Er. No?” He realized he looked flushed. “Just… the heat.” It was midday and the sun was pouring over their heads. The air was cool though and Merlin felt Arthur regarding him. He held his lips together betraying nothing.

“You’re not even doing any work,” Arthur said. He looked a moment longer at Merlin, snorted, and turned to leave. “Well? Get to it!”

Merlin let out a long sigh. He was fortunate that Arthur could be a blockhead and usually missed what was not directly explained to him. In simple terms, preferably. If Merlin hadn’t been wearing his neckerchief, Arthur would have seen the blush on his cheeks going all the way down to his chest. So he picked up the basket, holding it in front of himself strategically, and retreated to the palace armory quickly.

The cool indoor air did him well. Arthur wouldn’t have understood any of it. He was certain of that. The man was dense like his father about the ways the world actually worked. There wasn’t a shred of romance in either of them.

It had been easier in the countryside where one could disappear unnoticed for a few hours with a girl or a boy. Especially in small villages this started at quite an early age, Ealdor being no exception. And Merlin too had frequently escaped his chores and had his tastes from both sides. It had all come to a full stop when his mother had sent him to the citadel.

Everything was different now and he either didn’t have the time or hadn’t met anyone inclined to frivolity. He’d considered Gwen at some point; she was cute and an honest, hardworking girl, but there was no chemistry. Besides, the court gossip was terrible and Merlin could not afford any attention being brought to him whatsoever. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel. Or want.

Merlin shook his head, cleared his thoughts, and set to work soaking the clothes and waiting for the rest of the materials to be brought to his work station. Hard work had always calmed his mind. It gave him room to come to peace with his place and put aside all his personal desires. It was a reward in itself to work here, he reminded himself. Working for Arthur. That was what he should be doing. Two sides of the same coin. Uniting the lands of Albion. He scrubbed the dirt from the greaves with furious determination.

It was there in the armory that he heard Sir Caridoc and his squire Liam speak of a strange occurrence of burned victims in the lower city. He slowed his polishing to listen for more details. Sir Caridoc’s voice was slightly slurred, as if he had been drinking. Five people were dead. Their whole bodies had been burned as if they had been laying in the sun. The strange thing was that there were no other wounds. Oddly, their relatives had not witnessed any sort of burn or rash in the hours before their deaths. Apparently they looked quite roasted.

Merlin was scrubbing very slowly and lightly, trying to keep listening in when Arthur and the knights walked in, talking with loud enthusiasm.

“You’re never going to get it clean like that,” Arthur mused and put another pile of work on the table in front of Merlin. “Here, let this be your inspiration. And I’ll need a bath after I’m done training.”

Merlin looked around and Sir Caridoc was gone. Liam was working on repairing a coif. The other squires worked beside him in the armory, mostly in silence. Some talked about their own hopes and dreams; of horse riding, jousting, and Liam spoke of a sweet girl in town selling spices. Merlin ignored them and worked as hard as he could, so that he could slip out to Gaius before returning to his duties to the prince.

  
**\-----10 Arthur-----**

When he exited the armory the sun shone in his eyes something fierce. He almost bumped into someone. “Watch it!”

“Is that any way to speak to a lady?” A familiar voice challenged him. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sun he saw the shape of Morgana fill his vision. She was dressed in dark gray breeches and a white top covered by a short haubergeon. She wore plated gloves and held the grip of her sword like she was ready to take it out to fight.

“I’m not sure I’m looking at one,” Arthur teased. “What on earth are you doing out here, Morgana?”

“What does it look like? I’m training.”

Arthur noticed that her hair was braided back and her usual jewelry was absent. She still had the same fierce look in her eyes as when she wore her dresses, Arthur mused. “You haven’t been out here in some time. I thought you’d outgrown it by now.” He looked into the distance and regarded the knights who were still training, as well as several squires who were working on their sword techniques.

“I’m not ready for a permanently seated life. I still have things to do.” Her smile was foreboding. But then it usually was.

“Things like what?” He sounded more petulant than he’d meant and she looked wounded suddenly.

“I don’t know yet, I’m not allowed any labor. I’m essentially dining and smiling at guests.”

“I’d eat my left shoe for a week of simply dining and smiling,” Arthur grinned at her. She didn’t look satisfied at all.

“You would go mad in a day living like that,” she assured him and turned to walk to the training fields, swinging her dark braid around. She was fiercely determined and he knew he would not be able to talk her out of it.

Arthur followed with haste. “You mean like you?”

“If you’re too frightened to combat a madwoman, you need only say so.” The humor was back on her features.

He smirked at the challenge, oblivious to the effect of his banter and followed her onto the field. He had exercised for most of the morning and early afternoon so he was slower than usual, but it meant she matched him quite well. After several exercises he complimented her stance, and told her to use more force. Several of the men were watching them.

“You know it’s unusual for a woman to be out on the fields. Let alone the king’s ward.” He parried her blows and spun, he almost managed to get a hit onto her shoulder, but she blocked it effectively.

“You’ve been trained to protect yourself because you’re important. I’ve been led to believe I am too, so what will it be?” Her gaze was strong upon him and her large green eyes looked determined.

“I doubt my father would allow you to ride into battle.” He circled her and made a feint, trying to scoop a foot from under her, but she saw through him and skipped along, turning quickly to return to her defensive stance.

“I doubt I would ever have the need to lead an army to war. But who knows what battles the future may bring?” She lifted her chin defiantly and swung high, low, then high again.

He blocked her and complimented her speed. “You can outride anyone on a horse, Morgana. There’s no need to fight.” She swung once more, high, low, and low once more which caught Arthur's thigh.

“There is every need,” she disputed. “We fought Kanen in Ealdor shoulder to shoulder.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows as he recalled the memory and Morgana’s sword hit him against his gloved hand. He hissed and dropped his sword.

She took several steps back, trying not to look too satisfied with herself. “You are so eager to die for your men, who will defend me after you are dead?”

“I won’t die so easily, though. Besides, at some point you should get yourself a fine husband.”

“Morgana!” Gwen came running down the path, her dress spilling behind her.

Arthur picked up his sword and stepped aside.

Gwen was panting. “Morgana, you are needed inside.”

Morgana lowered her sword as well and regarded Gwen. “What is it?”

“I believe, that is… I’ve been asked to retrieve you.” Gwen stole a glance at Arthur who turned to look at the citadel. Morgana too turned to look and King Uther was regarding them from one of the windows in the throne room.

“I’m not yet finished with my training routine. Tell the king I will join him later.”

“My lady, he seemed… quite upset,” Gwen attempted. She did not want to be the bearer of bad news to the king, which Arthur understood.

“If he expects me to sit like a pretty marionette at his every beck and call, he must be bitterly disappointed. I cannot stand him!” She lowered her voice, correcting herself, “I will finish this first. Thank you, Gwen.”

Gwen lowered her head. She knew when it was too much to ask and she curtsied to Morgana. “Yes, my lady. I understand,” she sighed and it looked like she wanted to say something more, but instead she bit her lip and with a swirl of skirts hurried back towards the castle.

Morgana’s eyes were on fire. “He thinks he can command me to the point of deciding whether or not I’m allowed to wake or breathe. One day he will see what I am made of.”

“I’d rather you said that when your sword is sheathed, Morgana,” Arthur joked.

She moved quicker than he anticipated and her sword swiftly rested against his neck. He stopped it eventually with his free hand. “Tell me, Arthur. Why does he keep me?” While her voice was calm, the prince saw in her eyes that there was turmoil. She pulled herself back together quickly and sheathed her sword. With the move of a gentlewoman she pulled a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“He has taken care of you for all these years. I don’t understand why you resent him so.”

“He hasn’t taken care of me. If I didn’t know better I think he is waiting for the fight to go out of me so he can marry me.”

“Marry you?!” Arthur’s jaw dropped. “I can safely say that it is anything but that!”

“You would know this?” She looked at him from the corner of her eyes.

“I would know any man to be a fool not to want to marry you, Morgana. And I know my father is quite foolish in these things. He will not marry, not after my mother…”

Morgana looked away at nothing in particular. In her mind she was trying to make sense of things. The nature of her stay at Camelot had changed over the past few years just as the interest of their foes in harming Prince Arthur had become a sport. The more Arthur was targeted, the more Morgana was hidden away from the world.

“I, too, want to help Camelot,” she said at last. “Even if Uther does not understand. I am considered part of the royal family. That is how the people speak of me.”

Arthur regarded her wordlessly. He took a step closer, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. He was clueless about women and although he grew up with Morgana, she was always a mystery to him.

She seemed to understand his difficulty and spoke plainly. “Did you know, I have never heard of any marriage proposals being made to me?”

“I’m pretty sure there have been. Is it something you desire?”

“If so, I would like to be involved, not informed, Arthur.” She shook her head. “If this continues, one of these days will be the last you see of me.”

“I had no idea you were so unhappy.” He was being uncharacteristically gentle.

“That’s just it.” She gave him a wan smile. “I’m not allowed that either.”

  
**\-----11 Merlin-----**

“Burned, you say?” Gaius looked worried, hovering over a bowl of soup. “Well, there could be many reasons. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

Merlin shrugged. “I just thought you should know, that is all.” He felt the pull of his magic. He longed to use it to truly investigate and be of help to the palace in situations like this. His sense of justice was nagging at his heart. With five victims it indicated that this was not just a random attack, but something with a pattern. Who knew what would happen next? He hadn’t been able to set the deaths at Freya’s hand behind him either. Before making any conclusions he decided that he would investigate that evening. He told Gaius his plans.

“Just don’t do anything rash. We have had a quiet time and we don’t yet know if this is any design against the royal family or if this is simply the work of a scoundrel,” Gaius cautioned him.

Sometimes it was as if that man read his mind. “I know, but I can’t sit by and do nothing.”

“Merlin, think about what you’re saying. If you go near those bodies and somehow you are found out, they might think you were the cause.”

“But I—"

“I know, trust me I do. Wait for another day or two. I’m sure we will hear of something more.”

“People might die.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Who knows, whoever it was, they might have moved on. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

Merlin got up. “I know,” he said. But he didn’t fully believe his own words. Gaius was as much holding him back as he was protecting him. That was fine for a child, but Merlin was determined to make his own choices. “I have to serve Arthur his bath.”

“Don’t mess this up, Merlin.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

  
***

Merlin emptied the pail of warm water, filling the tub entirely. His sleeves were pushed up and an old towel lay folded over his shoulder, in case any water escaped its intended destination. Prince Arthur appeared from behind the changing screen wearing nothing but a towel and his eyes shot towards the steaming tub. He crossed his arms across his broad chest and looked at Merlin. “You test it.”

“Me?” Merlin raised his eyebrows, staring straight at Arthur’s eyes to prevent his gaze from wandering. A flash of warmth crept up his chest and threatened to reveal itself across his face.

“Just put your hand in it. I don’t want to get scalded again.” The prince looked at him with impatience. “Well?”

Merlin gave a small smile. “It should be perfect, my lord.” He lowered a hand confidently in the water and it felt good and warm. Just like the small flame in the pit of his belly. Merlin knew this couldn’t bring about anything good, and he quickly dried his hand again on the towel over his shoulder. He proceeded to distract himself with the other full pail over the fire and then by lighting some more candles.

“Good, then prepare my doublet. The blue one. Father has asked me to dine in the banquet hall tonight. He has invited Gaius, so I expect nothing good to come of this.”

Merlin frowned. Gaius hadn’t mentioned this. Perhaps this was why he cautioned Merlin patience.

“Well? I’d like to be there before the entrée is served!”

“Of course, sire,” Merlin said and averted his eyes to the floor as Arthur stepped into the bath naked.

He passed the bath and went over to Arthur’s closet, biting his lower lip. He fished out several layers of clothes while Arthur gave small ‘ahh’ sounds as his muscle tension unwound after the long day of training. The prince used a small flask of oil for his muscles, rubbing it over his chest, neck, and arms, which added a sheen to his skin.

Merlin turned around briefly at the sound and saw how relaxed Arthur looked. He regarded the back of Arthur’s head, the ends of his sun-kissed hair wet from the bath water. His strong arms were draped around the edge of the tub, defining the muscles around his neck and shoulders. The light from the fire and the dancing flames on the table enhanced the contours.

 _Damn_. Merlin gulped and felt himself start to swell. What had happened to his earlier resolve? This would make everything more difficult. More secrets to—

A flash of light distracted him momentarily, coming from behind him at the window. That was odd. The sun had already set and none of the courtyard fires ever came as high as Arthur’s room. He stepped over to the window quickly and looked out from one of the small transparent stained glass panes. There was nothing to see except for the courtyard and guards talking to one another. Perhaps it was nothing…

He distracted himself the following half hour by repairing one of Arthur’s shirts. Poorly. He was never any good at needlework but it was expected of him. He pointedly ignored Arthur as the prince got out of the bath, dried himself, and slipped into his breeches. It was far too tempting a sight, but then Merlin was amply practiced at ignoring temptation and choosing the best option. The sort of options that kept his head attached to his shoulders.

From that point on Merlin kept a straight face and dressed Arthur mechanically for the feast. He fastened and tied the laces to his breeches and strapped on the belt. He offered Arthur his silver rings, pulled the doublet over his head, and closed the buttons with careful fingers. And there was absolutely nothing to read on his face.

Or so he thought.

“God, you look bored, Merlin. I know what will cheer you up! Tomorrow’s hunting trip.” Merlin’s hopelessly disappointed look could not be missed and Arthur laughed lightly at him. He put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, indicating he was done with getting dressed. “Cheer up, that also means I’m not drinking tonight. So you can join the other servants at the lower table after our meal.”

“Thank you, sire,” Merlin said, giving Arthur a curious look. It wasn’t often that the servants were allowed to be seated at all during these gatherings. The lower table was nothing but a bench, but at least they could keep a plate on their lap and enjoy some of the royal meals.

Arthur dismissed him and he escaped to the direction of the kitchens to help with the preparations for the feast. He nearly bumped into the chef, Audrey, a large woman with a fearsome bust and arms as thick as logs. She could wield a ladle at least as well as a knight his sword. He greeted her politely and escaped to the small room where Gwen was polishing the silver forks and knives. They discussed that day’s events briefly.

Gwen looked worried, so Merlin asked about it.

“I’m worried about Morgana,” she admitted. “I mean, she’s fine. She’s been better recently, actually. But there was something that happened a while ago and it’s the only thing she won’t talk to me about.”

Merlin raised his brow. He regarded Gwen with a small smile. “Do you mean she won’t gossip about something?”

Gwen smiled cautiously. “We do more than gossip, you know. As women, we might not be allowed to discuss war and strategy at court sessions, but we discuss them all the same amongst ourselves.”

“Is Morgana contemplating a war then?” Merlin joked.

“No!” Gwen laughed. She tucked some of her curls back behind her ear. “She has been unnerved as of late. It started when that witchfinder interrogated her to incriminate Gaius.”

Merlin looked serious. “She wouldn’t have done anything to harm him, I’m sure.”

Gwen nodded. “I’m sure too. She’s always sought him out for advice, for her dreams—or nightmares that is.”

Merlin nodded. Morgana’s dreams had frequently been supported by the events which then later occurred. Morgana’s precision was remarkable. He thought back to her secret confession to him, and her trip to the druids who confirmed her magic… He gave Gwen a puzzling look as if he didn’t understand what she was implying.

“Well, she’s stopped taking the medication and she seems fine.” Gwen laid down the fork and looked at Merlin with exasperation, as if he had to understand her meaning right away.

“That is a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Only…” Gwen reached out and picked up a serving spoon, starting to polish it furiously while several other servants and cooks walked back and forth on their own errands behind the two of them. “It seemed rather sudden after Aredian’s accusations. I doubted very much that she would have rested well without the sleeping draughts. Yet she has.” She shook her head and worked out several creases in the shining fabric.

“I trust Gaius’s work. It would not have harmed her in any way.” Whatever Morgana might have said about the potions, Merlin knew it was all coaxed out of her. That man had been too clever to put words in her mouth directly. The after effects of this damage had apparently not yet faded.

“I know this. That’s why I was wondering about the change in her…”

“What did you discover?” Merlin knew it was not his business to pry into Morgana’s private life. She was highly protected by those around her. And by King Uther. The fact that Gwen came to him especially to mention something private must mean it was important to Morgana’s safety.

“Well,” she hesitated a moment, “as servants we see and observe and listen, right?”

“Oh, always.”

“Well, I know each piece of Morgana’s jewelry. In case something goes missing and it must be retrieved, you know?”

Merlin wasn’t sure where Gwen was going with this.

“Well, she’s been wearing a bracelet now. Ever since…”

“Since what?”

“The day Morgause left. Everything changed.”

Merlin frowned. He recalled his secret trip with Arthur to see Morgause and the visions she had shown the prince. She was a sorceress. Though Merlin was unsure what side she was on, he knew that she was powerful. She had obviously pitted Arthur against Uther, but Merlin wasn’t sure who her quarrel was with.

“Huh.” Was his stupid reply, but his mind was racing. Was the bracelet related to Morgause? Did she give it to Morgana? Did Gaius do something different for Morgana without telling Merlin? Could Gwen be wrong? Had Morgana done something different to suddenly be sleeping well? Had she used magic to ease her nightmares? Could she use anything specifically yet? Had Morgause truly interfered? Was her magic good or bad? What was Gwen suspecting of the bracelet all in itself? He smiled at Gwen simply and said, “Well, she’s feeling better isn’t she?”

“Merlin!” she said in exasperated tone. “You know I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m coming to you because I want to relay a message to Gaius without Morgana becoming suspicious.”

Merlin nodded.

“I believe the bracelet is _magic_. And I’m worried, Merlin. She’s happy, and that’s good, I mean— she _should_ be happy. But what if—"

“Don’t worry. I will ask Gaius about it.” Then, he turned to her seriously. “What if it really is helping Morgana?”

“Perhaps it is,” Gwen said with a sigh. She had seen that it was. “But I’m afraid there might be consequences…” Gwen’s layered response revealed her true fears, and it conveyed to Merlin once more how Morgana was somehow linked to something more. Something just beyond Merlin’s grasp.

“I promise, I will ask Gaius about it.”

  
***

The feast turned out to be a good meal indeed. The air was warm and the knights were talking merrily. He had spent most of the meal daydreaming of the Lady of the Lake. He didn’t know her name but he understood that’s who she was. And she had mentioned ‘we’, as if there would be more than one of these magical beings waiting for him in the _hour of truth_. He didn’t know when this would be, and he wasn’t sure whether to trust his instincts on what would be a good time to see them.

Gwen sat next to Merlin and spoke of the lower town. “Their skin turned black and their eyes were…” She looked at Merlin in horror.

“Were what?”

“I’m not sure, some people said they were gone, others said there was nothing but blood where their eyes once were.” She lowered her head. “I can hardly believe it to be true.”

“That’s pretty gruesome. Who would do such a thing?”

Gwen shook her head. She caught Morgana’s eye, who was looking at them curiously. “I need to go. Don’t worry yourself, Merlin. I just hope this is not some vicious attack.” Gwen hurried to her Lady’s side and served her more drink. Merlin looked briefly and did not see any bracelet on Morgana’s arm at present. He would have to look again another time.

Arthur kept his promise and stayed off the drink, but as a result his evening was not an enjoyable one. He sat hunched over next to his father and Gaius, who were discussing something the others were not invited to listen to. Uther’s gloved hand was balled into a fist. He longed to hear for himself and assumed it could only be about one topic.

Again there was a flash of light near the windows. This time, seated in the grand throne room, Merlin could follow it clearly with his eyes, moving behind the stained glass across each window, one at a time. As Merlin regarded it he felt dread across the room. It was as if he saw the light in slow motion, crawling from the furthest window to the one closest to him, nearest to the door.

Before he realized what he was doing, he sprung up from the bench, ran towards one of the windows and opened it. The guards looked on suspiciously at first. But they were quickly at ease. It was Merlin after all, and they started laughing, assuming he had drank too much.

Instead of retching, like the guards thought he might, Merlin’s eyes searched the sky for any sign of the light's source. Were they under attack? Was there some flying beast? Freya? He turned around and saw that none of the knights or guards were paying attention to him. He caught Gaius’s eye, who beckoned him over.

None of the people in the throne room had even remotely looked in the direction of the windows. Even so, the light had been very bright and it couldn’t have been missed, even by the people with their backs towards it. It had been as clear as if the sun had just come out. The guards stationed at the far end of the room were still overlooking the guests, as if their vision hadn’t been perfectly suited to follow the ball of light. They were not alarmed. None of the guests were even remotely aware of the ominous feeling seeping into the room. Merlin was intensely confused.

“Gaius,” Merlin said unsteadily as he kneeled next to the old man who was seated several places away from the King, to the left side of the main table.

“I know, I felt something too. Best be quiet now.”

“But I’ve seen it before,” he added in a hushed voice.

“When?”

“Earlier today,” he said quietly. Arthur was looking at Merlin oddly and he calmed his face instantly. “It’s probably nothing,” he said with a small smile. From this distance, it would be impossible to learn what he had said to Gaius.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” Gaius said, turning to him. “Was it here? I didn’t see anything.”

Merlin looked at him oddly. Was he the only one who had seen it? He smiled awkwardly. “Perhaps it was nothing, but… it looked like a ball of fire, or light.” While he had hoped that his next discovery of something magical would be benevolent, he had every expectation that the doom which had covered this place like a suffocating blanket, which Gaius too had felt, indicated something more sinister.

“Very curious. I would advise caution, Merlin. Come to see me in the morning. I may know in which direction we should be looking.”

“What direction is that?” Arthur stood behind them and Merlin realized he hadn’t seen the prince get up. He stood up straight again and looked at Gaius and Arthur helplessly.

“I’m thinking of an ancient spirit of the northeastern parts, perhaps. But I would need to have more evidence first, before I can confirm this.”

“Sorcery?” Arthur demanded.

That word again. Merlin hated the layer of disgust that filled Arthur’s syllables as he pronounced it. The prince was born of magic himself, personally decreed by the King. And hundreds had died so Arthur may exist. Arthur didn’t even know it, as Merlin had denied the prince any acknowledgement of that truth only a month ago. And Uther had been all too glad to accept it. From that moment his meagre appreciation for the king had faded entirely.

“I’m not sure,” Gaius said in a gentle tone. “It’s too soon to tell. Besides, we cannot assume that all strange occurrences have sorcery at its source. We should talk in the morning.”

The old man got up to retire and bowed to the both of them. Arthur stood there for another minute, jutted his jaw, and then grabbed Merlin’s arm. “Come on, let’s find that evidence.”

Before Merlin could even say ‘ow’ he was dragged away from the royal feast and through the corridors. He felt uneasy still, but followed quietly. Arthur descended the stairs and turned to the corridor that would bring them to the entrance hall. Merlin recalled Gaius’s soft tone in the face of some unknown source of magical energy when had he replied to Arthur just now. He appreciated it greatly, that constant push into the direction of calm discretion as he cautioned and counseled the royal family. However, they never took notice of these attempts, not even now.

“Shh!” Merlin said, stopping suddenly in the corridor. There was a whirring sound of some kind, it seemed to blow through an open window. It unnerved him. And worse, the sensation of dread had returned.

“That’s just the wind, Merlin. God, are you five?” Arthur kept walking but Merlin wasn’t quite ready to yet. A very minute sound mixed in with the wind, it was most certainly a whirr or a flap. When Arthur turned the corner, he saw that the prince was suddenly bathed in a strong light.

“ARTHUR!” He lunged forward and pushed the prince away. They landed with a loud bang across the hall. Whatever light there had been a moment ago, had faded now.

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?” Arthur got up and pushed Merlin off him roughly. “Are you drunk?”

“No, I— There was…” He looked around. The corridor was dark apart from the sparse torches and it seemed that once more Arthur had missed it. This was really, really bad.

Arthur looked quietly past Merlin. There was something in his eyes then that settled on disbelief. On the place where Arthur had been a moment ago was a dark stain against the wall as if some fire had been burning there for many hours. A smoldering line of smoke was all that revealed its recent heat. Merlin stared at it.

“That wasn’t there just now, was it?” Arthur asked, incredulously.

“I don’t think so,” Merlin said hopefully. He bit his lip and got up. The uneasy feeling in the atmosphere had gone, but instead a deep roar had taken his place. The Great Dragon was complaining at him from the cave beneath Camelot, which only he could hear. He held his breath.

“Then you’ve saved my life again! What did you hear?”

“I don’t know, honestly. It was just a feeling…”

Arthur’s hand reached out to help Merlin to his feet. Merlin grabbed Arthur’s forearm and pulled himself up. The prince held it for a moment longer and looked Merlin straight in the eye. “Thank you.”

Merlin’s heart warmed, but he was careful not to let his face betray him. There was a goodness in Arthur that the king did not possess. The low rumbling below the castle continued, but it didn’t get any louder. Whatever he had done, the Great Dragon did not seem pleased and he couldn’t understand why. It was just like this source of light. No one else was aware. It nagged on his nerves.

To his dismay, Arthur was still hell-bent on finding evidence. The prince was unafraid of the consequences as usual and easily casted off the occurrence of a few minutes ago as almost trivial. To Merlin, it was not. The burn stain confirmed his suspicion that the source of this terrible energy was connected somehow to the burned victims from the lower town. Gaius would likely be the one to examine them in the coming days. He suspected that this was what King Uther had summoned Gaius for. Word had already spread through the servants’ gossip that the victim’s eyes had been removed somehow. This type of sorcery made no sense to him whatsoever. The victims so far had all fallen in the poorer part of town, and now Arthur had been the target. How were these people connected? His mind was racing and he shared none of his thoughts with the prince. No good would come of it.

As the moon rose, they set out to the lower town and investigated the places where the attacks had taken place. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the new reports. It all sounded the same as when Gwen had told the story to Merlin at the table. He kept his expressions guarded. If Arthur had thought Merlin knew anything about the gossip, the prince didn’t show it. Afterwards they were brought to see one of the victims.

The charred remains of an old man had been found moments after he had been left alone for the evening. He had stepped around the corner to put some shoes outside, when in the next moment his family had heard him scream and found him as he was. His grieving son told them the story numbly, as he had recounted it several times already to the city guards and neighbors and friends alike.

They looked at two of the other victims as well and it became immediately clear that they had met a similar fate. Merlin inwardly noted the position of their houses, compared to the palace. He found no pattern. The second victim was a mother of four, and the third victim was a boy barely in his teens. There was no logic to any of their deaths.

Prince Arthur didn’t ask any of the particular questions that Merlin wanted answers to. Though it was enough to go off of that all of the mourning family members hadn’t seen or heard anything. And that nothing had seemed amiss. They had no debts worth mentioning, nor were they involved in anything out of the ordinary. Arthur drilled them hard on that last part, clearly suspecting sorcery to be at the core of it.

It was not something he was pleased about, but he had to acknowledge one truth. If the citizens of Camelot were too frightened to partake in anything related to sorcery, it should surely stop the smaller ill-meaning magic users from making any attempts to upset the peace here at the citadel.

But there was another truth. Merlin knew that the more powerful sorcerers would also see their chance of success increased, as they could more easily blend in among appeased common town folk and pass careless guards. This seemed to only fuel the king’s paranoia, rather than make him see any flaws in his logic, or so Merlin thought.

The only thing consistent was that the attacks happened sometime after sunset, and that each time their skin was burnt and their eye sockets had been hollowed out. Perhaps they had seen something after all? Merlin hadn’t spoken now for some hours, keeping all his thoughts private, after Gaius’s suggestion, but it clearly irked Arthur.

“So what’s your take on this?”

“What?”

“God, have you even been paying attention?”

“I have,” Merlin protested.

“It’s magic, isn’t it?” Arthur wanted to know. He always did.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “Gaius should tell us.”

“Merlin!”

“I think the attacks occur outside, or near doorways and windows,” he said, not looking at the prince.

“Meaning?”

“That whatever it is… perhaps it is more wild and not targeted,” he ventured carefully. It wasn’t to put Arthur’s thoughts off sorcery. But it didn’t make any sense that these three people had been specifically targeted victims.

“Then this is even worse,” Arthur said, more to himself.

“How?” Merlin asked, stopping and turning to look at the prince.

“It attacked me too, didn’t it?”

Merlin’s eyes widened. He recomposed himself a moment later. “I don’t know,” he said, before hastily adding, “Maybe. Why?”

“Because if it’s not after me, I have no idea what it will do next…” Arthur looked frustrated and he hurried along the quiet streets, navigating around some drunk towns folk laughing wildly, a young man walking a palfrey back to the stables from one of the pastures, and a woman bringing in some of the dry laundry from her work bench. Arthur looked at the activities of these people in the middle of the night and shook his head.

Merlin understood. Which one of them could be next?

It was deep in the morning before they returned to Arthur’s room and Merlin prepared him for bed. He helped him out of his garments and offered him his night shirt, turned down the bed, and put another log on the embers of the fire, nudging it along slightly with his magic for added warmth.

“I have a feeling the boy won’t be the last victim,” Arthur said contemplatively as he got under the covers. Merlin was edgy. Arthur had been attacked only a few hours ago. Nobody else had noticed a single thing and people were dying. He was more reluctant than ever to leave Arthur alone for the night. What if it happened again?

Yet so far, each attack had only taken place in the early evenings and it would be dawn soon. He had to get some sleep as well. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, and though he had meant it to be appeasing, it worked the opposite.

“If it is sorcery, my father should hear about it first thing.” The prince stared at the canopy of his bed.

“Let’s hope Gaius has news,” Merlin added with a soft voice, aiming to placate the prince.

“I won’t sit by and let our people die,” Arthur said more to himself than to Merlin.

Merlin smiled at him. “You’ll come up with something.”

“Whoever is behind this…”

“I take it the hunting trip is delayed?” Merlin asked hopefully.

“Until further notice,” the prince said with genuine complaint. Merlin left him then to his sleep.

  
***

The next morning he woke up hard and with a certain prince infiltrating his otherwise peaceful dreams. He repositioned himself in the narrow bed and lowered a hand to stroke himself. Images of the last few days returned to his mind and he mentally turned every situation into his favor. There was a bustle outside his door and he stilled, turning his back to the door the moment Gaius knocked and entered.

“Merlin, I need you to go on an errand immediately.”

He muffled a reply and when Gaius left he let out a long sigh. Some of these early mornings were the only time he had purely to himself. But if Gaius had found something, it was probably very important. But he was _horny,_ dammit. He took another couple of minutes until Gaius knocked impatiently. “Yes, I’m getting dressed,” he lied. Against his will he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed quickly. It wasn’t like his master to push matters so early in the morning.

Gaius was sending him on an immediate errand into town to find an artefact that might be bound to whatever magical thing was attacking. A small list of ingredients for potions was his cover. He allowed Merlin no time to waste and had him pack his breakfast as quickly as possible.

“Wait, Gaius. I need to ask you about Morgana’s bracelet.” He’d promised Gwen. The old physician turned around with a little too much care for Merlin to suspect his full innocence, despite the man’s long standing training of ignorance in these matters.

“Gwen says it’s been helping her,” he added with a small smile. “Has it?”

Gaius continued stirring his potions. “I do not know exactly what the bracelet is or does.”

“You still won’t talk to her about her gifts?”

“No, Merlin!”

“It is a gift, you know. And if accidents around her keep happening…”

“This is neither your concern nor your priority. Now will you please get me the ingredients on your list? And keep your eyes open, remember what you are looking for. Make haste!”

Merlin left displeased. He knew that if the bracelet had been a very serious threat, Gaius would have offered a warning of some sort. The physician had admitted to knowing about it, as much as he admitted to knowing about Morgana’s powers. It was something they disagreed upon on an essential level. Merlin contemplated what he knew.

Lady Morgana was clearly frightened, though she hid it well at court. She served no other purpose at the high table than to be Uther’s ward. He had made her feel useless, she was never involved concerning the kingdom, politics, diplomacy—it fueled exasperation within Merlin. At least he had a purpose, and it kept him busy every day instead of having to concern himself about any of his powers. He put it from his mind. Gaius’s hasty charge was justified from the point of view of the victims’ families. Besides, it could happen again that very day. Morgana would have to wait.

Merlin wandered through several districts in town remembering details from the tome that Gaius had been reading from. There was something about spirits and they had both assumed that perhaps something had come unto Camelot from the Northeast. It was the first lead they had and Merlin thought only of Arthur’s satisfaction if he succeeded in finding something solid. Whatever that may be.

He made several inquiries throughout the morning and increasingly he found that the frightened people looked to him for a solution. He didn’t have anything to tell them yet, but cautioned them to stay indoors as much as possible. It was all he could tell them.

After some hours he discovered one large chest with the symbol of a man and a mountain. The man was the same size as the mountain and had just one eye in the center of his face. Other than that, there were few other decorations present on the wooden chest. It held several pieces of cloth, which had been brought from lands beyond the eastern borders. Perhaps this was what Gaius had mentioned.

He took a piece of parcel from his pack and a jar of ink, jutting down the symbol in a very ill-scribbled copy under the scrutinizing look of Lefarden, the owner of the chest. The beady-eyed man had only let him near his possessions for one reason. Lefarden’s daughter had been last night’s victim. She had been working in the spice shop for the past few years. As Merlin spoke with her father, customers had started to bring flowers and small gifts in sympathy. Lefarden graciously accepted them and tried his best not to cry, though he failed miserably. Merlin saw that Liam was among those who had come bearing gifts. His breath hitched. It could be him, bringing a gift in remembrance of Arthur. He couldn’t think like that. He had work to do.

He thanked the trader respectfully and offered him many wishes and condolences. The man looked at him helplessly and asked for some personal time before he brought his daughter to Gaius. To say goodbye. Merlin nodded. He looked out among the people bringing their gifts after hearing the dreadful news. He sensed no evil among any of them. Only grief.

When he returned to Gaius’s workshop he realized that he’d been away most of the morning. He found Arthur and the king both leaning studiously over a large, old book on Arthur’s lap. Gaius himself was treating a silver platter with a brush, smearing some transparent liquid onto it.

“I do not know if this will hold. Besides, there is that problem, sire.”

Merlin closed the door with a click and Gaius turned around and smiled at him.

The king looked angry and Arthur pale.

Merlin greeted them both with a bow and put some of his purchases on the nearest table. “You know what it is then?” Merlin asked hopefully and took out his piece of parchment. Arthur lifted the tome back onto the table and didn’t meet Merlin’s gaze. Uther simply ignored him.

“It’s a Birugderc,” Gaius said calmly. “At least that’s what I am led to believe. It is a creature of magic, which follows its own journey. It may not be too bad.” He nodded at the king.

“How is this is a good thing?” Uther asked, there was a tired impatience in his voice.

“Because it has not been summoned by anyone trying to harm Camelot, sire. That also means there is no need for further alarm regarding any suspects behind this particular case. It is simply a spirit passing through.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, hoping that his suspicion from the previous night was confirmed at last and that he might have been helpful. “I think I have found—"

“I want it destroyed,” Uther declared. The man’s conclusions were always the simplest, Merlin observed.

Gaius put his brush down. “I’m afraid it’s not that easy. It can only be taken down by a wooden spear. It is a counter element to its own power source, I believe. Besides, you do not know how to find it.”

“I might have an idea on that,” Arthur said.

“What’s a Birugderc?” Merlin interjected at last.

Gaius gestured towards the book. Merlin unrolled his scroll and walked over to the table, standing next to Arthur. He saw the large figure of a one eyed giant, which confirmed Gaius’s suspicions of it. “There, that looks like the symbol I saw on the chest. It belongs to… one of the traders. I am certain he is innocent of knowing what it brought.”

“This is your idea of a drawing?” Arthur hissed at him.

“How can you be certain?” Uther’s pale eyes pierced through Merlin, demanding his attention away from the snipe.

“Because his own daughter was taken. Burned, last night.”

Arthur looked up. “What?”

“In the trading part of town. Lefarden’s daughter, Marden. She was twelve years old, just a child. He found her this morning,” Merlin confirmed solemnly. “She is the same as the others.”

“It could be a trick,” Uther mused.

“Father, I really—"

“The man was broken,” Merlin interrupted. Uther stood up menacingly and turned to Merlin, ready to speak volumes about a servant’s station. Merlin stood his ground, against his own better judgment. “He lost his only child.” He knew these words would hit home. Uther’s gaze was unkind but he did not retort.

Gaius saved the situation. “As the writings tell us, it cannot be willfully summoned or controlled. Whatever has been brought unto Camelot, has been most unwittingly done.” Gaius had the gift of speaking calmly in any situation. Uther sighed and turned to Gaius. Merlin wasn’t so sure about the lack of conjuring or motivation, but he didn’t want to put the king on edge.

The attack on Arthur lay at the core of it. He couldn’t mention it now. Instead, he returned his attention to the detailed page in the book. The lettering was small and plentiful and in the lower corner was the image of an eyeball. There was too much to read, so he scanned over the words quickly. “What have you found out so far?” he asked Gaius pointedly.

“It is a spiteful creature that is very, very old. It has always been hard to describe. It is said to come from a slighted knight who could not find truth in the prophecy of his death, and thus made it happen. He ignored the lesson offered to him by his lord, that it is better to fully live than to be preoccupied with destiny. He had a magical eye, and its visions drove his anger. In fact, it is these visions that turned him blind to anything else. It is so ancient that no magic can harm it. It is immune.

“He wreaked havoc until he was finally defeated by the help of Water Spirits that were embedded in young shoots of wooden spears and arrows, and thus the magical eye could no longer burn into its master’s mind. It seems that it has been disturbed and it travels once again, seeking to regain power in a time no longer belonging to it. Some say it flies. It will burn all its victims instantly. And… it is entirely invisible.” Gaius wanted to add something but it was clear he could not mention anything further in the presence of the king. “Even this treatment might not work. But you may see something in it.” The old man pointed at the small, round silver dish which he had coated with a layer of transparent paste that had dried and was now hardly visible.

 _Immune to magic_. Merlin felt tense at the very mention of it, but kept his eyes fixed on the paper, staring rather than reading. The dread, he knew, was another clue. He felt that he understood the hatred this creature brought into this reality, and recognized it as the heavy air, which both he and his master had experienced in the banquet hall last night.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, “help me into my armor.” He picked up the silver platter from Gaius’s table, startling the old man. Merlin put the book down with care.

“You’re not thinking of attacking it by yourself,” the king protested.

“I’ve got to try. This creature may be traveling, but it’s currently traveling through the citadel. Who’s to say when it decides to leave? I will decide for it.” Arthur’s resolve was harsh and Uther nodded at his son with some appreciation in his eyes. Arthur turned to leave, pushing Merlin out in front of him.

Gaius seemed to be very anxious. “Do not try to find it. Use the silver. I am not certain that it will work… Be cautious!” he called out to both Merlin and Arthur.

Cautious. It wasn’t the same as careful. Merlin pondered. He hadn’t read the full description but the idea was clear. The ball of light was somehow an evil soul no longer meant for this place and time. Merlin had felt its spite rolling through the halls, and he could probably sense it, at least if it was in Arthur’s vicinity again. But he would not be able to do anything to stop it. His magic wouldn’t work against it. There was no way that he could protect Arthur this time.

Arthur walked quietly in front of him, not saying a word. Merlin wasn’t certain what this meant but he followed diligently. They entered the prince’s room, and still Arthur had not spoken to Merlin or shared his thoughts about attempting to attack the creature. The prince demanded one of the guards to bring him a wooden spear from the newest batch to his room as fast as they could.

When Merlin helped Arthur put his armor on, he did so quietly and mechanically. It unnerved him greatly that Arthur didn’t speak to him. He ventured quietly, “You’re not afraid, are you?”

“This time,” Arthur said with a dry voice, “more than ever.”

Merlin raised his eyes to look at Arthur, while trying to strap his pauldron tighter for safety. Arthur’s cold, avoiding look was replaced by something else for a moment. “I believe in you, sire. More than anyone.” He stepped back to hand the prince his sword belt.

“And why is that?” Arthur taunted. “Yesterday you pushed me out of its way.”

“I don’t know about that,” Merlin said nervously.

“Yet you acknowledged that you saved my life,” Arthur said his brow furrowed.

“I’m not sure what happened, actually,” he added sheepishly.

“Well, I’m drawing it out. It will be in the inner catacombs.”

Merlin nodded at Arthur and made for the door. He halted when he didn’t hear the familiar clump of boots or clinging of chain mail behind him. The prince stood still and pursed his lips for a moment, regarding his servant.

“You don’t think I’m letting you go alone?” Merlin asked with a disarming smile.

Arthur’s face softened. He took a deep breath, clearly to say something, but a guard knocked and entered immediately, presenting the spear.

Merlin handed it to Arthur. “Let’s go.” He gave Arthur a stern look, trying to help him gain his courage. The prince was brave, Merlin knew, but fighting against an invisible enemy would be nearly impossible. If there was anything he could do, he would.

Arthur set off for the inner catacombs, carrying the spear, and with Merlin trailing behind him. No guards came this far down and it was thoroughly deserted save for the tombs of kings and queens from the past generations of Camelot’s royalty, which were surrounded by artefacts from their own ages.

“Why will it be down here?” Merlin asked curiously. It was nearly mid-afternoon and they were deep within the castle’s bowels. Somehow it didn’t seem to be the right time or place for the creature to attack. Perhaps Gaius had told them something of value.

Arthur remained quiet and Merlin followed. They entered the dark hall where the torches along the wall were their only light and their steps echoed off every stone surface in dull reverberation. The sensation that Merlin had had during the feast was not present, but he felt a different kind of anticipation. He sensed the Great Dragon’s presence beneath the castle. He felt that it was busy in the castle and even busier in town. Market day. He felt none of that miserable spite which had filled the corridors just before Arthur was bathed in that horrible light.

He looked around at the old and ancient objects, as well as the tapestries and furniture that was stored away. He tried to see anything that resembled the symbol on the chest in the trader’s shop. Merlin’s biggest question was; was it after Arthur in particular, or just seeking to kill?

It seemed suddenly that he would have to reconsider his priorities because Arthur turned around and held out the spear straight at Merlin. His lips were pressed thin and the look in Arthur’s eyes was miserable. “It’s over, Merlin.”

The words rang oddly across the catacomb and refused to settle in Merlin’s brain. He took a step back but realized that he’d been standing close to a wall and was now pinned against it. Arthur forced the spear against his ribs and Merlin bit back a yelp.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Arthur, what…?” He stared at Arthur wide-eyed. The prince shook his head, jaw clenched, and his grip tight around the spear. “I haven’t done anything!” Merlin protested loudly. His complaint bounced off the walls.

“Gaius…” Arthur started. “He clarified something to my father and me about the Birugderc.” His voice was uneven. Merlin looked at Arthur stupidly and wrapped his hand around the spear’s point, trying to remove it from where it was bruising the skin right over his heart.

“It’s a cursed creature. Made of pure magic itself,” Arthur continued, his eyes narrowing, “and it can only be seen or heard by those who have powerful magic.”

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat and his gut twisted tightly in anguish. His brain raced to somehow come up with an excuse. He knew what was coming. The wooden spear prodded his ribs hard enough to hurt.

“You saw it.” Arthur’s conclusion was merciless and there was blind hatred in his eyes.

“I didn’t…” Merlin protested weakly. He let go of the spear and held up his hands. “I swear, I had no idea—"

“No idea of its traits, perhaps. I saw you,” he spat. “I saw you run to the window after dinner.” The prince’s dark blue eyes were wide, accusing.

Merlin felt the blood drain away from his face and nausea settle at the pit of his stomach. _I’ve made a terrible mistake_. “I was… feeling sick. Needed some air—"

“Enough with the _lies_ , Merlin. You took credit for saving my life yesterday. I know you better than if that had been nothing. Why did you do it? Did you summon that creature to gain favor?”

“It cannot be summ—"

“I know what Gaius said, but Gaius can be wrong. Like he is about you!” The spear pushed further and Merlin gasped.

Arthur had not brought him here to investigate.

He had brought him here to kill him.

The very thought broke Merlin’s spirit more than he thought possible. It wasn’t the right time for the creature to attack, there was no ill sensation here. There were no servants, no guards. Just the two of them.

“I’m not… I didn’t…” Despite his words, he saw that Arthur read all the answers in his face. Anger in the prince’s features made place for utter surprise and disbelief. Merlin wanted that spear from his side, so he could think.

“I should _hang you!_ ” Arthur said to him bitterly.

The spear left Merlin’s side and Merlin expected nothing more than to feel it return with more power. His pleading eyes searched Arthur’s, and his lips were trembling as he tried to formulate words. He took a deep breath and steadied himself against the wall. He would not fight Arthur. It didn’t matter if the man struck him down right there. He thought about his destiny, about Albion, about the Great Dragon. He thought about the future of magic. He thought about Arthur as King. How was he to save all of them now?

“I use it only for you,” he breathed, and everything felt like it was slow down and muted. “It is my duty to protect you.” His mind raced. _Everything is lost_.

He realized his voice sounded different now than it had previously. He sank to his knees, no longer having the strength to keep himself standing. A lightness rushed through his head, wrecking the last of his nerves. He stared at the cold stone floor as though it could provide him with answers somehow. All had been for naught. _What have I done?_

“You do not deny it then?” Arthur asked. Merlin heard sadness in his voice, rather than the aggression Uther would have expressed. Arthur drew his sword. He had to uphold the law, he was the Prince of Camelot after all.

“No.” Merlin hung his head, his hands lay limp on the ground. “If you want to kill me, I understand. I’m sorry.” His voice was surprisingly light. He felt more and more at ease by the minute. It was absurd. Perhaps he had already given up hope that anything could come out of this positively for him. Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes but did not fall. _I’m sorry, Great Dragon. Perhaps I won’t be able to set you free after all._

But the prince’s sword did not swing. Merlin waited for what seemed like a decade before Arthur said anything. Each second passing tore Merlin further apart, cruelly, as he thought about what it meant for the prince to see his own manservant, his friend, being unmasked this way.

“Why?” Arthur asked at last through clenched teeth.

Merlin dared to look up. His worried look clearly had an effect on Arthur, who took a step back. “Because of the man you are. And will be. To protect you. It is my destiny. I stand guard from the shadows despite the risks. My loyalty is only to you.”

“No.” He could see now that Arthur’s eyes were watery too, mixed with the utter conflict in his expression, and pain as realization dawned on him. “You’ve lied all this time. You’ve used magic, right here, at the heart of Camelot!”

Merlin looked at him sadly. All of that was true. And now his cover was gone. The risks involved were far beyond his comprehension. Everyone’s warnings forfeit. He was dizzy. If only he could make Arthur see. If only he could tell Arthur what it was like to be him. It made him reckless.

“There is goodness in the hearts of men, sorcerer or not. I have saved your life more often than you know, released enchantments, guided you.” His heart thumped wildly in his chest. There was no way these words were his own. “And I would do it again if it led me here once more.”

“How do you expect me to believe you, after all these _lies_?” The last word echoed through the catacomb.

“Your father’s wrath would destroy me and leave you unguarded for his enemies to target you. He would destroy the kingdom with it. And,” his voice turned into whispering sobs, “I never wanted to put you in the position to be untrue to your king, your father.” He hung his head, desperate for air. It was too much to bear. He could not have made Arthur bear this burden too. Everything had gone wrong. Arthur was going to strike him down and it would be his end.

The prince heaved his sword and uttered a battle cry, roaring at the top of his lungs. Merlin whispered a final apology into the dust on the ground. His time was over and there was nothing left to do but repent his last seconds.

The sword struck against metal and Arthur took a step back. The blade was stuck in a dummy knight, which stood next to Merlin. Arthur’s chest heaved with labored breathing. Merlin huffed incredulously into the dirt on the ground. Arthur had not executed his vengeance, nor upheld the law of Camelot. His head swam. He looked up and saw Arthur taking several steps back, lifting an arm in distrust. He had expected Merlin to act, he realized. To defend himself. Now that he hadn’t…

“You understand then?” Merlin’s voice rasped. “I only ever protected you, guided you through the darkness. I would do anything for you.”

Arthur shook his head in denial. “Why,” he gasped, “why you?” The prince was obviously struggling hard to come to terms with the very notion.

Merlin didn’t understand the question. He cast his eyes down and heaved a sigh. Gaius would despise him now, and the Great Dragon would too. He hadn’t been clever enough to stave off this discovery. He hadn’t been able to keep himself hidden.

 _Be cautious_. Now he understood that Gaius had avoided mentioning the creature’s exact traits before the king. He had warned Merlin the only way he could. And Merlin hadn’t been cautious enough. He should have understood that if nobody saw it, he couldn’t see it either. Evidently Gaius hadn’t been told about the previous evening when he had saved Arthur. He had gone to bed late at night, too late for Gaius to be awake. And Merlin had not been there when Gaius must have spoken about the creature to Arthur and the king. There had not been any time to explain it to Merlin. And then…

“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.”

“You sent the light,” Arthur said and took another step back, his brows furrowed. “In the caves of Balor.” The words came out with serious struggle.

Merlin’s face relaxed for a moment as he recalled the memory. He had been poisoned and unconscious, yet despite his serious predicament he had led Arthur out of the cave with his magic. He ventured a small smile. “Yes. I guided you to climb the right path.”

Arthur stared at him hard. Obviously he had never told anyone about the light. It must have been something Arthur had fretted about for a long time. Why would a magical light guide him, when Nimueh’s dark magic had obviously left him there to fall prey to those beasts. Why would any magic be of help at all? Merlin gave a small laugh at the very unreal acknowledgement. His tear-stained eyes connected with Arthur’s. He _had_ to see the truth there.

“You are still a…” Arthur started, but Merlin interrupted him.

“All I know is that I can see a creature that I cannot attack. But you can.” He looked seriously into Arthur’s eyes, bringing him sharply back to the present and the problem that lay before them. Saying it was odd. Explaining it was so simple, but the mere utterance of that sentence was a novelty.

The prince didn’t answer. Merlin waited. Arthur was processing all this information and struggling hard to make the right decisions. He gave Merlin the smallest nod.

He knew then that Arthur understood that he had Merlin’s support, despite its unfortunate source. He also knew Arthur’s determination to save his people was beyond even the slightest caution to himself. Merlin was still kneeling in the dust, but the fright had left his features. He was ready now for what might come.

“Do you think it will attack again tonight?” Arthur asked.

“Most likely. I found a chest in Lefarden’s shop in the southern part of the trade district, which suggests it has a source, despite its randomly chosen victims.”

“We have to destroy it.”

Merlin’s heart jumped, but he guarded his response. _We_ , he had said.

“Yes.” Something warm burned inside of him, on top of his devotion for the man in front of him. The thought had been an impossibility just a year ago, when the man was just an obnoxious self-indulged bully. And a prat. Somehow, all of this had changed. Arthur had chosen to defy his father, his own understanding of magic, and the blind execution of someone he must know was loyal. All in one motion.

Perhaps Arthur had not brought him down here to kill him. Merely to unravel the information that had already formed in his head. Perhaps in some way the prince had always known.

No, he decided. Arthur’s surprise and disgust had been real. And everything that had been so carefully built up was broken. Merlin now had the chance to gather the shards and put them back together.

Just having that chance filled his heart.

  
**\-----12 Arthur-----**

Arthur excused himself from that day’s council, despite his father’s express wishes to discuss the matters of upcoming state affairs concerning the other kingdoms. He knew that it was important, certainly. But so was this. He paced his chambers from the hearth to his bed and back, still fully dressed in armor.

When he was young, he hadn’t been suspicious or paranoid. His father’s broad and stately appearance had made him feel protected; him and Morgana both. But she was lately sensing the unrest too, just like he was. And despite the knowledge that his father was not perfect, perhaps even largely flawed, he could not disobey his king and he could not stop loving his father. Which is why it was so hard.

Since his early teens he had become an object of interest to all neighboring kingdoms. One day he would be crowned king and this was good for some, and very bad for others. He had been taught the means to be courageous, political, diplomatic, and, above all, distrusting. And yet, the deepest faith he had put into his knights and his household were stronger than any distrust for his enemies. His men were loyal and he had always been proud of this. He paced some more.

Was he wrong? Had he been reluctant to see what was under his nose all this time? Nothing made sense to him anymore. No matter how hard he tried to wrap his head around the idea that Merlin was a sorcerer, it did not settle. The very notion was absurd! Arthur had even denied these accusations openly and very convincingly several times in the recent past. Against the court, the people, and against his own father even. And his conviction had been because of his ignorance.

Now, it was time to make a decision. Should he be revealed? Should Merlin die?

He desperately sought to find the necessary arguments on both sides to rationally weigh out the reasons, but found that his heart answered that question for him. Despite that boy being a fool, Merlin was his servant. His diligent, loyal, _stupid_ manservant. He clenched his fists. The biggest problem was not that Merlin had broken his trust, but that he had believed that Merlin, of all people, was the only one who never would.

 _I never wanted to put you in the position to be untrue to your king, your father,_ Merlin had said. It was the only thing he could focus on right now. He had never wanted to put Arthur in that position, which meant that he knew that he could have. But then he would have never gained his trust. And Merlin had wanted to spare him from that. He surprised himself when he thought it. Could he lie to his own father?

Merlin had also stood by and watched many persecutions and hangings. Or had he been there at all? Arthur failed to recall. Why had he not done anything? Those people had magic too, at least some of them. Arthur had not been certain each time the noose went around someone’s neck, about whether or not they were evil. This guilt gnawed at him. Of course, his father never faced this uncertainty. He didn’t need to spend any time thinking about what Uther would do if he knew about Merlin.

He tried to think back to the events of the past months, of the past years. Merlin had _always_ been by his side, unwavering. He had come with him to perilous situations—well not so perilous obviously, and they had escaped many situations with the odds piled against them. He couldn’t even rightly say what Merlin had or hadn’t done in those cases. Arthur pondered. Was everything he knew about magic wrong?

There was nothing evil about Merlin. He would have had many occasions to kill Arthur, especially when he’d been knocked out cold from some vicious attack or other. He could have let many enemies somehow get their hands on the prince, and it had never happened. Merlin was loyal.

And yet, he had betrayed him too. He had betrayed the laws of Camelot by using magic. Using it to save his life, and perhaps other people’s lives too. Or had he done so by vile means? Was he communicating Camelot’s inner workings to some external party? Would he—? No, it was absurd!

He continued pacing. Everything seemed to hurt.

His mind and heart would not accept the fact that Merlin needed to stand trial. His servant. Who changed his linens and scrubbed his boots. And for this, he was directly defying his king, something he had promised himself never to do. Unless it was the more reasonable choice, of course. And he had ignored his father’s words before, to be fair. Could he do something this important, this big?

Moreover, what if someone found out? Someone besides him or even anyone within the castle. Could Merlin play the fool? Could Arthur defend him now and claim it was nonsense? Could he lie to his father and the court straight-faced, and say he did not know? His head pounded sorely at the very thought of the king’s response. His face. His bitter disappointment in his own son. His wrath. His persecution…

  
**\-----13 Merlin-----**

That evening Arthur had asked for dinner to be served in his chambers. Nothing was mentioned about the trip to the inner catacombs to any of the servants or guards, or more importantly, to Uther. Nor was any mention made about the creature to anyone.

Sir Leon had reported the word from town and had relayed that the people were scared, and that the citadel was buzzing with gossip and paranoia. The king had decreed a curfew at sunset, which was to lift only at dawn. The guards who were sent to uphold the curfew were told not to take any prisoners, only to send the people inside, and to instruct all citizens to close their doors and windows. It was too dangerous to be outside. A select number of the bravest guards had stepped forward for this undertaking.

Merlin knocked on Arthur’s door timidly and entered with a tray of warm food in his hands. His eyes met with Arthur’s and he found no warmth there, so he lowered his gaze. He had never felt more uncertain in his life.

“I’m not holding to that curfew,” Arthur stated. The prince knew his father must already realize this as there were no additional guards stationed at his door. Ridding Camelot of magic was too important to the king, and Arthur had probably said something to appease Uther’s expectations of the outcome after their confrontation.

Merlin put the tray down on the table and walked towards him.

Arthur took a step back when Merlin reached for the leather straps to his pauldron. “Whoa, easy there.” Arthur held up an arm, creating a distance between them.

Merlin stopped mid-movement. “Sire?” He gulped. Had Arthur changed his mind? Merlin’s nerves felt electric.

“Why do you even do this?”

“Do what?”

“Serve me like this. You have ma—” Arthur looked around restlessly, his expression cautious and his voice bitter. “I don’t even know you.”

“I’m still the same person,” Merlin answered as lightly as he could manage.

Arthur shook his head in denial, though he lowered his arm. “You’re not though, are you?”

Merlin stepped in and did his job, unstrapping Arthur’s armor and sword belt deftly. His eyes sought any sort of recognition from Arthur, but he couldn't form the words to make him understand. So he didn’t reply.

“We’ll see how this goes.” The prince bowed down to get out of his hauberk, which puddled heavily on the floor in front of him. “If anything happens, I want you gone.”

Merlin stopped in the middle of picking up the chainmail. _No!_ “Sire, please...” he begged.

“Don’t contest this. I cannot have you here at the castle. You understand this, surely?”

Merlin stood up with the hauberk and laid it out over the table, watching Arthur undo his gambeson himself. His stomach knotted. He felt extremely vulnerable. Not being by Arthur’s side, being dismissed, was his greatest fear. “I can’t—" he started, looking up to Arthur with a furrowed brow. “I can’t be away from here, from you. There are forces at work trying to harm Camelot.”

“Oh, so this is about Camelot, is it?” Arthur’s deep voice toyed with him.

“Yes. No, it’s… it’s so much bigger than that.”

“I bet. And who are you working with?”

“No one,” he said it quickly, but Arthur was not convinced. “I only look out for you. I saved you from that troll of a mother-in-law, remember?”

Arthur looked somewhat surprised. “I suppose you did.” The memory of it seemed to add a glint of humor back into Arthur’s eyes as he recalled his father’s marriage to that creature and his utter denial of her true nature. The prince paused, studying Merlin. “And Aredian found you out.”

Merlin didn’t know how to answer that. Aredian had been a fraud despite his keen eye in uncovering himself, Gaius, and Morgana. And the man had done so within a few days’ time. “Not truly. He never understood that I am your ally.” He folded up Arthur’s hauberk and put it into a basket with the rest of his armor, ready to take away for polishing.

Arthur shrugged out of his gambeson and threw it over the folding screen irritably. “I defended you against him!” Arthur shouted.

Merlin turned away. He remembered how Arthur had broken the law, allowing him to see Gaius in the dungeons for a few spare minutes, when the old physician had been falsely accused and sentenced to death. Of course, Arthur had been fully convinced that Merlin was not a sorcerer then, or he would have never done what he did. “Apart from that… nothing that man ever said was true.”

He’d never been more scared for his, Gaius’s, or Morgana’s safety than when Aredian haunted the castle. He could not betray them to Arthur now. He thought back to Aredian’s dirty tricks and remembered how Arthur had stood up for him to Uther, when Aredian’s fate was being decided. He had shown faith in Merlin’s accusations. The faith that was now horribly broken.

The prince sat down at the dining table without saying anything. The painful silence between them was felt distinctly by both men.

Merlin folded Arthur’s gambeson and added it to the washing pile, gathering Arthur’s waist belt and sword to put away, lit several more candles and added some logs to the fire. And all the while his throat felt dry. Everything in his mind seemed shattered, and despite his hands working mechanically, he hardly comprehended what was happening.

“You were the one who freed the druid girl,” Arthur concluded with darkness in his voice. He was doing his best to unravel Merlin, and it hurt each time Arthur’s conclusions hit home.

“She was not evil, she was cursed.” Poor Freya. He would never forget her. “She is dead.”

“Did you kill her?” Arthur pulled his plate to him and started eating. As if Freya’s death was something to be discussed while devouring a large piece of beef, with steamed pears and spiced vegetables.

“No, you did,” Merlin’s voice rasped. He thought back to their final moments at the lake, at how she had been lowered into the water by magic. That she was now free. He thought about the warmth and the colors of the lady who had welcomed Freya to them. It was all he could do not to break down.

“How many more lies should I expect to uncover?” Arthur asked after a while. Merlin thought about it while filling the prince’s silver goblet with red wine. Arthur was asking a lot with this.

“The more I tell you, the more risk you take in conversation with your father. He would have you hanged for even speaking to me.”

“There is that,” Arthur conceded and drank his wine.

Merlin hovered near the table. He could hardly imagine Arthur’s thoughts right now. He ached for the other, and felt his pain too; but he could not, would not ask for anything. He needed their minds to work as one, especially if they were going to defeat the creature, which neither of them could handle by himself. They had never been further apart than at this moment. Not even when they had first met.

“Sit down,” Arthur said as he continued eating. He waved a fork in the general direction of the chair opposite him at the table and regarded Merlin thoughtfully. The longer Arthur looked, the more nervous Merlin became. He wanted to get out of there, but he was aware that there was no other place he could be right now. That to leave now would mean to be defeated. So he sat down and stared at the pitcher of wine. After the meal they would have to set out to find the Birugderc. Together.

He ventured a look in Arthur’s direction and found his dark blue eyes still regarding him thoughtfully while he chewed. The candles bathed a golden light over his blond hair. Merlin lowered his head and felt an unhelpful blush creeping on. Arthur’s stare was doing unspeakable things to him, giving him hot flushes, followed by cold ones. He blamed his nerves even though he knew better. To be so close, and yet so far away from him mentally was playing tricks on his mind and he would do _anything_ to make this right again. He needed Arthur more than he was ready to admit to himself.

No, that was a dangerous path to walk. There was nothing to be gained from it. He decided to change tactics and grinned nervously, trying his best to look lighthearted.

Arthur didn’t respond, still chewing and giving him a hard stare, and Merlin straightened his expression once more. All of a sudden he wasn’t certain at all whether they would be able to work together to destroy the creature. He needed Gaius or the Great Dragon to give him advice. Right now.

A knock came from the door and Merlin sighed with the utmost relief when Gwen walked in, oblivious that she had disturbed anything. “Arthur, it’s Morgana. She hasn’t woken up since this morning. I thought she was sick, but now… Please hurry.”

Merlin had never been happier about an interruption than he was at that moment. However, the realization of what Gwen said settled heavily in his stomach. They rushed to Morgana’s chambers and Arthur called on the guards to run and fetch Gaius. Inside her chambers, Morgana was asleep in her bed, twisting and turning, pale as a sheet. Gwen rushed to her side and picked up her hand.

Merlin noticed that the bracelet was lying on the sheets. Perhaps it had come off during her sleep. He couldn’t catch Gwen’s glance to confirm it. Arthur sat down on the edge of the bed when, suddenly, Morgana sat upright with a gasp and looked at Arthur, right through him, to his very soul. “No one, no matter how great, can truly know what lies ahead. Retrace your steps to see the truth. Live to understand—” Gwen put an arm around her, and Morgana was brought back to reality with a shudder.

Morgana was shocked to find everyone by her bedside. She opened her mouth to speak and closed it right away. Whatever she might have wanted to say was stilled by her deep and twisted terror that she must have felt in that moment. She shot Merlin a helpless glance. He gave her a small nod and retreated to the far end of the room. Her large green eyes pleaded helplessly.

“Oh Morgana, I thought your nightmares were over,” Gwen said, huddling the lady to her own chest.

Arthur stood up from the bed and sighed with clear relief. “Your dreams really are pretty horrible.” He added with a more tender tone, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Merlin stood quietly at the back. A thousand thoughts passed through his mind, including his worry about Arthur’s possible suspicions about Morgana, and Gwen’s too. Plus, the bracelet and what this vision meant. For it must have been a vision, and one that was clearly directed at Arthur.

He memorized her words while the others seemingly dismissed them. He sensed that her magic was becoming stronger and he knew that if she laid in bed any more than she already did, without any understanding or any outlet, without any knowledge of how to hide it away, that the burden on her soul would be a heavy one.

When Arthur passed him, he got a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, she’s fine!”

Merlin nodded simply. She really wasn’t.

  
***

The curfew was in place and guards were stationed along all the watchtowers as well as near the gates. Besides that, there was no one on the street. A faint mist hung in the darkening sky and it threatened to drizzle at any moment. Merlin and Arthur made their way quietly across the vacated streets, avoiding the guards. Arthur carried the spear and the embalmed platter. Merlin looked around carefully.

They had barely spoken since emerging from Morgana’s chambers. Gaius was looking after her now.

Merlin sensed the prince by his side, but he still felt so completely unconnected to him. It served to remind him of how easy their time had been recently, and how much everyone had been right when they had told him not to reveal himself.

Now, the hour of the attacks was upon them, but the sky remained dark.

“You had better be right about this,” Arthur warned him.

“It’s only been four days,” Merlin said. “We can’t possibly know what to expect.”

“Then what good is this?” Arthur hissed through his teeth.

“I don’t know. This creature is one of a kind.” The air became thick.

“You really are useless, aren’t you? Even for—"

Right at that moment, Merlin saw something light up against one of the towers. “There!”

He started running and Arthur followed without hesitation. Merlin kept his eyes to the sky. He twisted around the streets, slipping along the muddy pools and kicking things as he went. He never took his eyes off the light. He knew that Arthur followed closely behind him. He heard the heavy, careful footsteps and the clangor of chainmail in pursuit. The ball of light disappeared for a moment and Merlin stopped. He stood still and closed his eyes, concentrating, listening, and feeling.

The dread was thickening around them. He could feel it, though he knew that Arthur could not. This time his own feelings were amplified by their dark saturation; it seeped into his very being. Everything within him shouted for him to give up, to leave everything behind and surrender. That he had failed. It drowned away his breath and he stumbled forward.

A steady hand touched his shoulder and he opened his eyes again, sucking in a deep breath.

A cry wailed through the street and before either of them could exchange words, they rushed into the direction it came from. It had sounded like the cry of a child and Merlin’s heart was in his throat instantly. The torches guttered when drizzle started to pour down. Carefully, the two men descended into a dark alleyway. They did not find anybody and Merlin saw no light in the sky. He spun around, desperate to find the source of the cry, to discover whether anyone else was dead.

“Over here, Merlin!” Arthur had found the source. It was a dead cat. Its fur was singed and it stank.

“Look at its eyes.” Merlin knelt and pointed. There were gaping, bloody wounds where the cat’s eyes had once been. Unfortunately, the poor creature’s cries had stirred the local folk and Merlin and Arthur heard shutters opening.

“Back into your houses! Do not open your windows or doors to anyone!” Arthur shouted. His booming voice had the experience of command behind it, and whoever had been thinking about coming outside, now had second thoughts. Merlin looked up and down the street. Arthur’s words had the desired effect and they saw nobody looking.

“We were nearly too late,” Arthur said. “We must hurry.”

Merlin nodded and left the poor, dead cat where it was. He followed his senses and thought about his destiny. The old knight who once had the Birugderc—whose very soul had merged with it—had not come to terms with his own prophecy. He understood how hard it must have been for the poor man. From the moment Merlin’s path was laid out before him, he had been bound in chains to his servitude, his secrecy, and his humility. It was exactly his own prophecy which provoked so much unrest within him. Strangely enough, that sensation was answered by the surroundings. A malicious sensation was formed clearly in the area to his right, and he started running.

He followed the dark sensation until he was breathless. When he reached the lower town’s small market square he came to a halt. It was empty now but for a breeze and some remaining vegetable waste and straw. All the shutters were closed. The dread was around him now, suffocating the air. “It’s close.”

He couldn’t use magic against this creature, the only thing he could do was get Arthur close to it. Close to something dangerous, which had cast an attack that had been entirely invisible to the prince. Fear got hold of him, heavily weighing in his shoes. The dark gloom of its magic seeped into his bones and made his limbs heavy and lame. All the while the drizzle seeped into their clothes. It was then that a large shadow loomed in front of him. He realized after a moment that it was himself, displayed on the stones in front of him. His own shadow.

“Arthur!” He spun around and pointed at the ball of light. It resembled a giant eye, looking down on him with evil intent. He held a hand in front of his eyes, looking through his fingers. The eye stared at him and its pupil glowed an angry orange. Its viciousness was all around Merlin. Anyone who possessed this eye would have been corrupted, Merlin knew it with a certainty. And it was looking straight at him.

The whirring sound increased while it hovered.

Merlin froze.

He had seen evil creatures before, but none of them filled him with such a ferocious feeling. It hung in the air while the noise increased. Merlin did not realize what was happening until something shot out toward him. It dawned upon him at last; he was its target now.

He jumped at the very last second.

Arthur was looking at him blankly. “Merlin, quit playing around!”

Merlin rolled over the cobblestones painfully and got up, pointing at the sky once more. “There!” He had no time to admire the dark, steaming smudge on the cobblestones beside him.

Arthur eyed the sky aimlessly. He held out the platter, trying to see if anything was visible in it after Gaius’s preparations. There was something of a faint glow visible. Merlin wasn’t lying. Arthur aimed the spear and threw.

The floating eye hummed more loudly as it swiftly raised itself up, and the spear went through clean air.

“It’s moving!” Merlin kept his eyes narrowed against the bright light. The rain wasn’t helping. He scrambled up and dove towards the spear that had fallen to the ground. He almost ran into Arthur who took it from him with a rough grasp. “I’m sorry,” he said to Arthur, not certain of how he could be of more help.

Arthur shook his head at him dismissively.

A bright light shone on Arthur’s face and Merlin turned. The eye’s pupil was starting to glow an angry orange once more. Merlin lifted a hand to the sky lest the both of them would be hit. They were too close to it now. Both of them would be burned if he didn’t do anything. Could he use his magic somehow? In front of Arthur? 

He cast a spell, using an ancient incantation, which created a circle around the creature in the sky, made of sparks and embers that came from a nearby torch. The whirring increased rapidly. Merlin would not be able to defeat it, but he could point it out to Arthur. “Throw it, now!”

Arthur hadn’t seen the glow in Merlin’s eyes, but he did see the circle. The circle hovered in the sky, guided by Merlin’s hand as the Birugderc moved. Arthur dropped the platter and stood with the spear firmly in his grip. The Birugderc was moving away now, higher into the sky, pulsing and charging its attack. It would be out of reach soon. The circle moved with it, higher and higher.

It was now or never.

Arthur took several steps until he braced himself against the stones, and threw the spear with all his strength, right into the center of the circle.

There was a crack along the sky which sent all the dust, dirt, and both Merlin and Arthur flying. They landed against some empty barrels and saw particles whizzing across the sky, falling into pieces.

The dread was gone immediately.

Merlin lowered his arm and the circle faded. He turned his swirling head towards Arthur beside him.

The prince just regarded him with a stunned expression.

“You did it…” Merlin said. Arthur was safe. Then all the light went out and he collapsed.

  
***

Merlin awoke with Gaius leaning over him and looking worried. He was in his own bed, and birds were chirping outside. Merlin smiled casually at Gaius. His head pounded. “No more deaths?” He reached out and touched Gaius’s sleeve.

“No more deaths. I’m not sure how this came to be, but for the past two nights we’ve all been safe.”

 _Two nights?_ “Ah. Good.” His arm dropped from his master’s sleeve and his head lolled back onto the pillow. It was only then that he noticed Arthur leaning against the wall beside the door with his arms crossed. Merlin bit his lip. Gaius didn’t know about Arthur’s discovery. The physician regarded Merlin’s concerned look curiously.

“Dodging work again, Merlin?” Arthur asked, stepping closer. He was relieved more than anything with that question, and he smiled. His head swam from the movement alone.

“As a physician, I do believe he should rest,” the old man sputtered.

“Thank you Gaius, I can see that.” Arthur turned to Merlin with a small grin. The prince nodded briefly, turned, and left.

Whatever that was, it filled Merlin with the delight of a child. He had woken up in his own room, and not in a cell. There was no way he could tell Gaius about Arthur’s discovery. It would put too much of a strain on everything. Gaius would have his hide.

He rested for some more hours, checked the bump on his head tenderly, and left to attend his daily duties.

Inside the castle, he learned that Arthur had taken all the credit for killing the creature. Perfect. The tale that was being told described a specially prepared silver platter that had been used to discern the creature’s image, so that Arthur had known where to throw. Gaius seemed to buy it and so did the king. Uther announced a tournament in his son’s honor, which coincided with the visit of a great king, and as a result many knights, earls, and other nobles were invited to arrive in three days’ time. So it happened that Merlin was back out on the training field, surrounded by the knights practicing around him.

It didn’t take long for Arthur to walk over to him and throw insults his way. “Really, Merlin, if you had half of Sir Leon’s weight, you’d still be bigger than you are now.”

“At least I’m not stretching my chainmail,” he shot back.

“I am not. Stretching. My chainmail. They’re made of metal, they don’t…” Arthur looked down and sucked in. Merlin laughed and Arthur gave him a smack on the back of his head.

He genuinely winced at that.

“Well, that’ll teach you,” Arthur said awkwardly and walked away quickly.

Things were looking like normal and he smiled underneath his wince. “Prat!” He called out and dodged a war hammer flung in his direction. Even the other knights laughed.

Good, that was good. He was the same old Merlin to them. He wondered if Arthur would talk to him about magic that evening at all. He wondered if the Great Dragon knew what had happened, if he had foreseen this too. Soon, he would have to free that beast and fulfill his promise. And he knew in the pit of his heart that it would be a bad thing. But there was something else on his mind now that he needed to address first.

Before his evening duties started, he walked into Gaius’s workroom to find the man writing a letter. He didn’t question Gaius, and simply sat down in front of him. He waited patiently for his tutor to stop writing and look over to him.

“If you’re wondering whether I’m thinking you had anything to do with the Birugderc being defeated…” The old man paused and Merlin looked at him innocently. “I don’t need to know.”

No, he didn’t, Merlin conceded for once. He smiled at the old man. “Arthur is a formidable warrior. He doesn’t always need my help,” he said simply, unsure of what Gaius’s reply would be. He’d have to get better at lying, better than he had been. “Gaius,” he started, “have you seen Gwen lately?”

“No, not in a while. She’s been busy I suppose.”

“Yes. Busy and observing.” He smiled and got up, leaving Gaius stumped. “Very keen, that one.” And Merlin pointed at his temple indicating Guinevere was a clever woman.

Since this was not particularly new to Gaius, he let out a heavy sigh. “What is it, Merlin?”

“Oh, nothing special,” he said lightly. “Only that she wondered where Morgana’s fantastic new bracelet came from, but I’ve told you this. Oh, and that each time Morgana doesn’t wear it, she still gets her visions. But I’m sure it won’t end up to be court gossip.”

“Merlin, you are overstepping your bounds.”

“I disagree with you entirely.” Gaius’s words had made him feel guilty though. His master had that power over him. But he had to push. “What you are doing, holding her back, is doing more harm than good.”

“I’ve learned a thing or two in my lifetime, Merlin,” Gaius preached and Merlin shook his head. “And one of them is that patience is the biggest virtue one can possess. I understand,” he added, “how you must feel. Give it time.”

“How much time before someone figures it out. Someone who is not Gwen?” He jutted his jaw. “Are you going to help her from your workroom? Will you persuade the king to change his stance when he finds out about her? You know as well as I do that even _she_ cannot persuade him.”

“There is nothing more we can do now.”

“There is,” Merlin said. “She can be useful.”

“Useful? I don’t understand your meaning.”

“Find something. Make her useful. Refrain her from pining and being kept out of sight like a doll. She is caged to her room, Gaius. She will go mad for it.”

“She’s never indicated—"

“Find something, Gaius. Please.”

The old man looked at Merlin. He was surprised that the boy hadn’t asked him to confide more about magic to the Lady Morgana. It was too dangerous for her. And yet, her confinement had made her more solitary. While she used to be seen together with Arthur sharing meals and occasionally studying, she had stopped doing those things altogether.

“I will think about your words, Merlin.”

Merlin offered a dimpled smile. “Thank you, Gaius,” he said before rushing out to the kitchens to serve Arthur his meal at the feast.

  
***

That evening Arthur was in his chambers writing out some notes when Merlin entered with clean laundry and several boots tied together by the laces and flung over his shoulder. He didn’t say a word, letting Arthur work as he tidied up the items quietly into Arthur’s wardrobe. When the closed the door, he saw Arthur looking at him, just like he’d done at dinner several evenings ago.

“Anything else, sire?”

“Perhaps.” He leaned back slowly, his loose white tunic showing off the various muscled curves of his chest. Merlin tried desperately not to look, pointedly ignoring the deep cut and the chest hair just visible between the lace… He also expertly ignored the rolled up sleeves showing off his formidable forearms, simply raising his eyebrows at the incoming request. There was nothing in it for him, he convinced himself.

Arthur contemplated before he spoke. “You’ve heard about what happened.” It was hardly a question.

“You defeated the Birugderc, sire. Bravely, I might add.”

“Yes. And that’s fine with you?”

“Entirely, sire.” He put his hands behind his back and straightened his shoulders, curious as to where this would go.

“You’re not upset that I destroyed a creature of magic?” He leaned his head to one side and regarded Merlin.

“No. It was dangerous.”

“Have you ever killed anyone, Merlin?”

“ _What_?” He faltered and looked at Arthur indignantly. “I don’t… I don’t do that.” It wasn’t entirely true, he had killed on many occasions, but only when they posed a direct harm to Arthur, Camelot, or the people around him.

“What stands in your way?” Arthur asked, getting up from his desk. He walked towards Merlin, passed him on his way to the door. Merlin’s eyes followed him. He locked the door.

“You,” Merlin answered simply.

“And if I would ask you to kill someone, would you do it?”

Too many questions. “No, I wouldn’t.” He moved away from Arthur and started to take all the decorative pillows off the prince’s bed, putting them aside and began turning down the bed.

“But you said you’d do anything for me.”

“Not like that, sire.” He felt nervous now. This was nothing like the talk about using magic he had hoped for.

“Well, explain it then.”

 _If anything happens, I want you gone._ He heard Arthur’s words in the back of his mind. Merlin thought long and hard. Arthur crossed his arms while Merlin eyed the locked door. He didn’t understand it.

“Most magic users,” he began at last, “pick up sorcery through artefacts, charms. Sometimes enchantments. Others are born with it. Like me. Those who pick up sorcery probably do so to achieve a goal or an aim. Claiming magical use as such is wrought with danger and sometimes the soul is touched by whatever magic was in those artefacts. But to be born with it, that’s different.”

He paused, hoping that the new path he took was something Arthur would accept. He chose his words carefully. “Though we face the same persecution, our relationship with magic is entirely different. It resides in our very core. We make our own life choices. And in this life I choose to use it for good, or not at all.”

“Like destroying evil creatures,” Arthur interjected.

Merlin looked away and fluffed up Arthur’s pillows. “I try not to use it in general. Day to day I polish your armor, scrub your boots, clean your room, and muck out the stables. I don’t use anything special for that other than my own two hands…”

“I highly doubt it, looking at you.”

“I’m stronger than I look!” he protested. Arthur scoffed. It was so frustrating to look at the prince. His scrutinizing eyes were peeling him apart. He had no idea what Arthur was expecting of him. He only understood that he’d hurt him, betrayed his trust, and was trying to build it back up from the start. “I’m sorry,” he added.

“About what, exactly?” Arthur stood in front of him now, his deep blue eyes gazing directly into Merlin’s.

Merlin blinked and stammered. “You. You are the only person that matters…” His voice trailed off at the end. He knew how lame it sounded. Of course the prince mattered. He would succeed his father on the throne. But to Merlin he was everything. Could he own that kind of claim on the prince for himself? Impossible. Arthur mattered to everyone in Camelot.

Arthur looked at him oddly and Merlin felt a blush creeping over his cheeks. They were far too close. Merlin could smell the fact that Arthur had been in the sun that day, that he’d had a glass of wine at dinner. It seemed that Arthur was contemplating things just as much as he was.

“What I don’t understand,” the prince said at last, “is why you put yourself in all this peril. Are you brave or are you truly stupid?”

Merlin couldn’t help a small smile curling around his lips. “A bit of both if I’m honest.”

Arthur’s expression changed at that, to something far less dominant and more juvenile. “At least there’s something I can count on, then.” He slapped Merlin on the arm quite roughly.

“Yes,” he replied with a wry smile. “Always.”

“Well, that and your assurance that my breakfast is served on time tomorrow, and that my horse stables are mucked out before the morning.”

“But sire, it’s almost midnight.”

“You’re going back on your word?”

“No, I just…” He wanted to say something about the bruise on his head, something about needing to rest, but assumed it wouldn’t make much of a difference to Arthur. He still had a long way to go in regaining that trust.

“The tournament is in three days’ time, and I still want to take that hunting trip tomorrow. Before all the honored guests start arriving.”

Merlin gave a small bow. “Right away.”

“We ride at dawn.”

Merlin unlocked the door and looked back at Arthur with a small helpless smile. And then he was gone.

  
***

Early the next morning they rode out of Camelot together and followed the path into the woodlands. Arthur took the lead, in full royal armor and a crossbow strapped to his back. Merlin followed behind with supplies. Riding was a genuine joy for Merlin, and the energy of Royse, one of the royal beasts, beneath him sent him forward like a powerful force. If he’d had to describe magic to Arthur, perhaps this came close.

Growing up in Ealdor horses had been a scarce commodity. One summer he and Will had rescued two horses which had been left tied to a tree and had likely not eaten or drank for several days. They had carefully brushed them down and nursed them back to health. Then they had used the horses to carry building material to improve the home of the village elder, Simmons. Both he and Will had got into trouble after racing the horses through the woods and consequently being spotted in a much further range than their parents would have liked to see them go at all. It was where he had learned to ride, and where he had learned to love it.

Merlin and Arthur paused at a crossing with a small inn and some cottages to stable the horses and continue on foot. Merlin patted Royse’s soft nose and spoke gentle words to the roan, when Arthur told him to hurry along. 

For a large part of their journey into the southern wild woodlands neither of them spoke much. They simply enjoyed each other’s company and strained their eyes for game. Merlin felt more at ease in the woodland as opposed to having the sun on his head. He was feeling more relaxed. Trips like these were normal. And normal was good. Despite his sincere dislike of hunting, Merlin found he enjoyed this day already.

“So, who knows?” Arthur questioned at last, when they had reached a stream and sat down for a small refreshment. They had hunted down one small boar and two rabbits, but no big game.

Merlin looked around, still suspicious of answering such a question. “My mother,” he answered honestly. Hunith resided in Ealdor, which was ruled by King Cenred and though magic faced its own persecution there too, he assumed Arthur would not pursue her for knowing. She was his mother after all.

Arthur nodded contemplatively. “I suppose she would.” He chewed his bread and then took some cheese. He thought back to his training session with Morgana. She had spoken of Ealdor. Something clicked. “And Will,” the prince added.

Merlin looked down. Of course Will had known. Now that he was dead, there was no harm in confirming it and he nodded. He picked up a stick and drew lines in the earth with a heavy sadness which filled the hole Will had left when he died.

Arthur understood. “He took the fall.” It wasn’t a question.

“We were overwhelmed…” he started with a soft voice. He felt absurd saying this now, after all that time. It had been almost a year ago.

“That explains why he had never used it against Kanen before we arrived. I had assumed he’d been too much of a coward to use it.”

“He was not a coward!”

“I also thought you claimed you never killed anyone.”

Merlin’s mouth drew into a thin line. “In battle the rules change,” he said simply, and felt more than cheeky as he looked at Arthur. He was claiming his place as a warrior, be it of a different nature. Despite the warlock’s expectations, Arthur did not laugh at him.

Instead, the prince regarded him curiously. “They do,” he conceded after a while and sat up straight. “And you did save us all.”

“No sire, everyone fought extremely bravely that day. I cannot handle a sword as well as the others, but there are other things…”

“I get it. It would be wrong for you to take credit.” Arthur looked away in amusement.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Clearly.”

Merlin shook his head. It was nothing to joke about.

“Did you tell your girlfriend?”

Merlin choked on a piece of bread, coughing loudly.

“Oh, come on. We all know about country manners. You must have had someone back home, or on your way here,” Arthur coaxed him.

He frowned. Then turned away from Arthur. “One of them knew. Perhaps two…”

The prince laughed heartily. “Merlin, the conqueror of women all across Ealdor and Camelot.”

Merlin shuddered and laughed nervously. “You think you know me, but see, you really don’t.” It made all sorts of odd movements in his belly tickle. He felt his heart squeeze tight and a blush creep to his ears.

“It would seem I don’t…” Arthur said contemplatively.

Merlin thought he’d ruined the mood now. He needed this topic to steer away from himself and fast. “Well, I can only imagine how difficult it is for you, sire.”

Arthur raised a brow at him. “Do tell.”

“Well, being a virgin.”

This time the prince nearly dropped the deerskin flask he was holding. “I’m sorry, a what?” Arthur shook his head indignantly.

“Surely a prince must…”

“I am not…!”

Merlin raised his brows. “I’m appalled… Sire.” In a way he truly was. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is for a man in your position. If there was to be a child…”

“There won’t be. I’m sure,” he said it with ease and finished the flask before throwing it at Merlin. “Get me some more water.”

Merlin walked down to the stream and filled the flask in the cool water. Before he was able to stand up, Arthur had pushed him down with his face flat against the leaves. His heart jumped and he opened his mouth to speak, but it was quickly covered by a gloved hand.

“Bandits,” Arthur whispered.

Merlin lay face down against the cool forest soil among the dirt and leaves as Arthur was sprawled half on top of him. And bandits were prowling. He heard the hooves now. Quite possibly, Merlin reflected, this was the very worst moment to get hard, in all his life.

“How many?” he asked Arthur from between gloved fingers, but there was no reply. Arthur might not have seen them yet. A few deep voices were audible now and they were getting closer. Then it became quiet again, the echoes and hooves fading. A few more minutes of lying on the wet soil near the water’s edge chilled Merlin’s skin. When Arthur finally got up, the warlock thought he would be presentable once more. Mostly anyway.

“Let’s get out of here,” Arthur said, holding out a hand for Merlin to stand up. Merlin got up, handed the flask to Arthur for drinking and dusted off his clothing. They had not moved two steps up the bank before over a dozen bandits charged their way with swords in hand.

Without hesitation, Arthur reached for his own sword and rushed towards the nearest of them. Out of habit, Merlin stayed behind and ducked towards a tree. He overlooked the battle and stayed quiet, doing what he could to protect Arthur.

He made a hole in the ground where one bandit would land after a jump. The man sprained his ankle badly and was successfully slowed down. Another dropped his blade mid-attack and Arthur chopped off his head, followed by a spray of blood. A third one got sand in his eyes and was blinded for a few moments so the prince could slice him down diagonally across the shoulder. A fourth slipped over an otherwise entirely dry old log and fell over backwards, taking some time to scramble back up. Arthur sliced his gut open. Each of his spells were small. Within minutes, Arthur had taken the lives of eight men and the rest went fleeing.

The prince turned to him angrily. “Bloody useless when it comes to it, aren’t you?” He was panting for his effort and holding an elbow in pain.

“But…”

“Save it. You ran for cover.”

“I had your back!”

“From behind a tree?” Arthur started back up the river bank.

“ _Exactly,_ ” Merlin protested. “From behind a tree.”

The prince stopped and turned. “You mean you…” Arthur waved his sword at the directions of the dead bodies around them.

“Yes,” Merlin said simply. “Small things.” His heart thudded loudly in his chest.

“I didn’t see anything,” Arthur protested.

“That is the point!” Merlin reminded him and the corner of his mouth lifted with treacherous elation. “Besides, it was too dangerous. The other bandits ran off. If any of them recognized you and saw you talking to a… If they spread the word, well, you would be banished. Or worse.”

“Don’t assume you can start thinking for me now, Merlin.”

“Clearly I must if you won’t,” he ventured with a grin. Then regretted it the next moment when Arthur flung the flask at him and it spilled water all over his suede jacket.

“The bandits must have chased off the game. Let’s see if we can find out who these men were, and return. There won’t be anything for us to hunt out here now.” They examined the remains and emptied the men’s pockets, taking anything of value, and storing it in Merlin’s travel pouch. Of course, that also meant Merlin had to carry it all the way back to the horses.

“It will do you good,” Arthur had said. But his arms could hardly take it. Still, it did distract him from the day’s events. His heart was light and his skin felt electric. He recalled the moment he got pushed down onto the dirt with possibly too much glee. His logical mind told him to quit, but he knew he would be remembering this for some time.

  
**\-----14 Arthur-----**

The tournament in his honor for defeating the strange Birugderc coincided with the visit of King Galorian from one of the kingdoms in the far North called Foltaig, far beyond the Perilous Lands. The entire household of Camelot received the traveling party on the stairs, and all of the staff were also present to welcome them.

Arthur looked over his shoulder anxiously. Merlin was late, and Galorian’s scouts were already there, announcing the king’s arrival. They heard the trot of hooves coming through the gates, and a trumpet announced the very moment the king came into view. Suddenly Merlin appeared at Holden’s side. The steward looked immensely displeased but Merlin’s gaze was first and foremost aimed at Arthur. The prince shook his head with a small smile.

He knew what Merlin had been up to. He needed to learn what types of magic would come from the North. They knew the Birugderc was from the Northeast, but Foltaig's domain was far more West. Besides, it had been an ancient spirit and nothing that could have been summoned. At least, that’s what Merlin had been sent to investigate in secret. Merlin’s elated expression told him enough.

The council's concerns had only stretched as far as to discuss tidings on the druids in the northern lands, and the different magical creatures that they had there. There were talks of golden seals which could take the faces of humans in the water. There were pixies and brownies pestering the local folk. Arthur assumed these would not be traveling with the royal party. Nevertheless, the household was on guard, and this whole situation particularly unnerved Arthur.

King Galorian arrived and was full of easy charm with King Uther. They had exchanged several letters on the voyage down and it offered them a strange familiarity though they had never met in person before. Galorian wore rich clothes lined with soft furs and on his tabard stood a hunting bird with sharp claws. Behind him, the members of his household and several knights in armor sat on their horses and regarded their surroundings.

“You are very welcome, we are glad to offer you and your staff the southern wing, which is most pleasant at this time of year. May I remind you that any dealings with magic are strictly forbidden here in Camelot?”

Galorian offered a smile showing too many teeth. “Your laws are widely known, Uther. You have naught to worry about.”

Uther took that moment to announce to both staff households that in celebration of King Galorian’s stay at Camelot, a special grand prize would be offered to the tournament champion. Holden walked forward with a wooden chest, which was opened by Uther to display a collection of rare jewels from far beyond the southern seas. Rubies, jade, and precious topaz stones littered its velvet lining, and gasps were heard from the surrounding people.

“This is certainly a beautiful prize and one worth fighting for. I have several very talented knights who rode down with me from Brooksten Castle that are eager to test their skills.” King Galorian then leaned closer to Uther. “Of course, there might be more than one prize to be won.” The king’s eyes scanned the welcoming party and his eyes rested on Morgana for several moments. Uther pat the man on the shoulder and asked him to come inside.

Arthur stood uneasy on the stairs until the older gentlemen had passed and followed up the steps. He had a bad feeling about what the man had just practically whispered in his father’s ear. Without realizing it, he had again found Merlin’s eyes. The two of them needed to talk about the coming days, but Merlin’s turn to join the crowd inside had not yet arrived. Wordlessly they acknowledged that they would discuss things later.

Arthur followed the train of people through the corridor towards the throne room where an extra throne had been erected especially for King Galorian beside his father’s. Arthur’s own chair was placed further to the side. Morgana’s was also pushed more to the other side, and she was seated next to Uther. No doubt his father had planned it this way. He didn’t mind in particular, as he would hardly be indoors during the coming days after all. Perhaps Morgana would mind though.

He took to his seat and watched as people poured into the room and situated themselves according to their station. Holden was absent, likely securing the chest full of prizes so that nobody would get to it. At last, Merlin stood beside him. He had become increasingly aware of his manservant’s presence ever since discovering his true nature. A part of him wanted to somehow keep him at a distance from his father as much as possible, though it was an absurd notion. Merlin did his work normally and never complained.

Well, he complained a lot actually. And still defied Arthur’s orders all the time. In the end, there was nothing suspicious, which was acceptable to Arthur. At least that’s what he thought for some time. As the days passed, he found himself with more questions each time. And with the recent preparations and strict training regimes they had not shared each other’s company for more than a few minutes a day.

Not since that hunting trip.

At last everyone was in the throne room and the ground rules for Camelot were laid out to them. Holden returned and was introduced to them as the head of household. Nothing went by him without prior approval. His father announced a feast for that evening.

“Sire, I would like to use this moment to present to you my nephew, Darren.” One of the boys from the crowd stepped forward. “He is a strong boy at fourteen and ever in need of training. I want him to squire for Arthur during this tournament so he will learn all he can from Camelot’s greatest fighter.”

King Uther nodded at the boy. “Welcome to Camelot, Darren. You have skills in the field?”

The boy looked up nervously at King Uther and stammered, “Y-yes. I have some. It would be an honor…” his voice trailed off.

Arthur looked quickly at Merlin and saw that his servant was not too pleased with this. He started, “I already—" but his father was quicker to answer.

“Of course Darren will squire for Arthur.”

Arthur closed his mouth and smiled diplomatically at the boy whose big eyes were focused on him now.

“Which reminds me,” King Galorian said in a pleased tone. “I have no manservant with me. I will need one, especially for the upcoming festivities. One who knows this place well.”

“It’s settled then.” Uther turned to look at Arthur. “Merlin will serve King Galorian during his stay.”

“Father, I’m not—"

“Merlin is also in need of training in proper etiquette, Arthur.” King Uther smiled at him, but his underlying message was clear. Stop complaining.

Arthur gritted his teeth and nodded at his father. This was exactly one of those moments where nothing he could say would be heard or acknowledged. He knew his father too well for that, and courteousness always preceded common sense for that man. He realized his meeting with Merlin would have to be postponed now and strictly avoided looking in the other’s direction. It would show him defying his father’s wishes.

“Good,” King Galorian said in a pleased tone. “And he will exclusively be in my attendance throughout the event.”

“Gaius, you can surely spare him for a number of days,” King Uther said. It wasn’t a question and Gaius understood. He nodded in accordance. Arthur didn’t miss the mild annoyance on the man’s face.

He couldn’t stand it anymore and ventured a glance in Merlin’s direction. He was stood in his servant’s position and his eyes were directed somewhere over the heads of the people. There was a determination in his eyes that made Arthur wonder.

“Holden, please take the guest staff down to the kitchens first to eat after their long journey. Merlin, arrange for the clothing and packs to be brought up to the rooms. Darren, why don’t you follow Arthur down to the armory right away. Morgana, will you show good King Galorian the way to the tournament grounds?”

With that the court was dismissed. The bustle started up and Arthur got up from his seat in a huff, only to be stopped by his father grabbing his wrist. “You will show Darren every courtesy, is that understood?”

Somehow, his father understood his mood even better than he had. “Of course, father.” He pulled his wrist back and crossed the hall to find a very shaky Darren looking up at him as if he was descended from the heavens.

“Right, Darren. Let’s take a look at your upcoming workplace and then you can bring my armor to one of the tents and we’ll start some training.”

The boy nodded. “Thank you. I mean, for doing this. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Arthur smiled despite himself. “Do tell, what tales of me have traveled so far north?”

The boy started recounting his various adventures and Arthur noticed that many of them were clearly grossly exaggerated in his favor. He laughed. Perhaps this would not be so bad.

  
**\-----15 Merlin-----**

How did this happen? Within moments of the Northern King’s arrival, he had been whisked out of Arthur’s service and offered up to King Galorian. He was walking down the corridor in a foul mood when he spotted three of Galorian’s servant women near one of the carts with their belongings. They seemed to be arguing. Merlin needed to be at the cart for the King’s possessions and approached them. They scattered as soon as he was near them and he looked after them as they left. Clearly not all of the king’s party were at ease.

He set himself to carrying the ridiculously heavy chest up to the King’s room. Holden passed him in the hallway and shook his head. “You should have taken his travel bags first, they have a fresh change of clothing in them. And you should have undone his sword belt and cloak by now, so he could sit down after his long journey. Really, Merlin.”

“Oh, okay. Well, can I put this somewhere for now?”

“No, bring it up. If you leave it here, the other servants might wonder about it. These are the king’s possessions and more important than anything!”

“Right then. I’ll move on then shall I?” he said with labored voice.

Holden huffed at him and yelled at George to get King Galorian’s travel bags. Merlin frowned at that. George was often called upon when Merlin was sick or away on an expedition. But surely this wasn’t such an occasion. “Come on!” he told himself and lifted the chest a bit higher in his arms and labored up the stairs.

When he got there, sweaty and broken, he dumped the chest in the room of King Galorian’s chambers, just as the king entered. “Ah, Merlin is it? Undo this.”

“Yes, sire.” Merlin took off the man’s cloak and sword belt. He could hear the king breathing heavily through his nose. He was quite tall, slightly taller than Merlin and in his late forties or early fifties. It was hard to tell. The man had likely been in some battles, as he moved stiffly. But that could be weariness from his travels. He had gray streaks through his hair and was unshaven after the long journey. His eyes were dark and narrowed when they regarded Merlin’s work.

“Why is there no fire in the hearth?”

“Right away, sire.” He knelt before the fire to spark it and ensured it was crackling away nicely with the smallest amount of magical help when George knocked and entered with the travel bags.

“Who are you? Get out!” the King sputtered.

George dropped the bags in fright and left. Poor George, Merlin mused. “Would you like to change, sire?” he offered. Perhaps he could do this, after all. It wasn’t so different from Arthur.

“Yes, slowly please. I am getting on with age.” He held out his gloved hands for Merlin to tug them off. Gloves, Merlin thought. Not something Arthur usually still wore in his room, or at least he would take these off by himself. But he must obey a king, so he set to work. All the while King Galorian regarded him.

“You have very strict rules here about magic,” the man said.

Merlin nodded. “Oh, yes.” What was he asking?

“And you have seen magic users yourself in these lands?” Galorian got one hand free and offered him the other.

“Er, in the past.” Merlin felt unease creep up.

“Tell me about them.”

“They’re very secretive. Nobody really knows.” He tried to shrug it off.

“What about their trials and punishments, boy?”

“Hanged, sire,” he said.

“Come now, you must have seen something more, know something more.”

“I’m not part of the trials, sire.” He had stood by and seen several sentences take place, but it was not something he wanted to share with this man. He took a risk by lying like this, but he severely doubted the man’s intentions at this point.

“If you knew a magic user, would you point them out? To me?” The man started licking his lower lip. Somehow it seemed that he was keeping the glove on his hand, making it difficult for Merlin to pull off.

“I don’t know any,” he said lightly, “but if I came across one, the right choice is to tell King Uther. He decides what to do.” He tried to make it seem as lighthearted as possible. Both that he would not secretly pass any such information onto King Galorian, and that he was loyal to his own king. And above all, that he wasn’t afraid.

But he was.

“Do not test me. You are in my service and you will obey my will.” The man’s other hand got free and he grabbed Merlin’s wrist. The king’s thumb drew a small circle on Merlin’s skin. “Do I need to share my doubts about your service to King Uther?”

“N-no, of course not, sire,” he said lamely. Where was Arthur?

“Then you have a special task. One that I don’t need anyone else hearing about.” Galorian’s dark eyes stared at him hard and cold.

“Yes, sire.”

“You will find out one such magic user. And you will bring him to me.”

Merlin held his breath. What was he asking?

“If you do not comply, I will be able to make life very unpleasant for you. I am not in the habit of seeing my will ignored. Now, will you ignore my will?”

“No, sire.” Merlin tried to tug his hand away, but the king drew it closer.

“Bring me Emrys. Before the tournament is over.”

“W-who?” he stammered. He was instantly sweating and prayed his eyes were not showing his shock.

The king let go of his wrist. “I will have my eye on you, Merlin. Even if I’m not watching. Best remember that.”

“Yes, sire.” He took a step back and King Galorian was all smiles.

“Now, take this off and give me my evening wear.” He held out his hands and Merlin worked shakily to rid the man of his royal clothes and laid out the clothes from the travel bags neatly over the bed.

“You are new to service, aren’t you?” King Galorian pointed out.

“Yes, sire,” he lied again. He would not give him anything.

“You know your word counts for nothing.” It was a simple threat.

“Yes, sire,” he said through gritted teeth. How could this day possibly get any worse? He picked up one of the king’s royal breeches and turned around to assist in dressing the man.

“Kneel,” the king commanded as he approached with the breeches. Merlin knelt and helped Galorian step into them. The man put his hands in Merlin’s hair and gripped. He was pulled forward towards the man’s body, almost directly toward his groin. Merlin tried to pull away as he lifted the king’s breeches quicker than would be thought possible. Some magic might or might not have been involved at that point.

 _What are you doing?_  he asked himself. What was the king doing? The man’s hands were still in his hair, gripping at his short locks. He was too shocked to do anything in particular, especially with the compiled threats in his direction.

A knock on the door disturbed Galorian’s attentions and he let go of Merlin abruptly. Merlin stood up and retreated back towards the royal bed where the rest of the man’s clothes were laid out. King Galorian finished lacing his breeches himself and shouted for whoever was at the door to enter.

Holden entered and looked at the situation of the room, then all but glared at Merlin. “I would like to formally invite you to the tournament’s opening. It starts in half an hour. Will that be enough time, sire?”

The last question was added at Merlin’s expense. It made him feel miserable.

“Oh, I would say so. I shall attend. And please request the Lady Morgana to walk me there. She was so pleasant this afternoon.” He gave a sly smile to Holden, who bowed and left.

Merlin offered the king his doublet from behind.

The man uttered a small laugh. “You are not out of any of your obligations, Merlin. You must perform my requests perfectly or you will face the consequences.”

It sickened Merlin to think of what the man meant.

“Tell me about the Lady Morgana,” Galorian ordered.

“She’s the king’s Ward.”

“Something I don’t know yet.”

“Er, she likes jewelry?”

“All ladies do. Are you trying to be difficult here?” The king turned around and grabbed Merlin’s jaw, his fingers clenching into his skin. “Let me look at you proper.”

Merlin looked anywhere but at the man. He smelled the man’s sour breath which indicated that he had been drinking since breakfast and likely had tooth rot as well. He was frightened beyond anything. Nobody would believe his word if he told them. The king would deny it outright. The only one who might believe…

“Tell me something about her.”

“Okay okay,” he said, trying to speak with his jaw being held. “She is a better horse rider than Arthur.”

The king let go and looked at Merlin with disappointment. “That is the best you can come up with? You had better start opening your ears, boy. I know that Emrys resides in these lands and I want him found.”

“I will learn what I can,” he said, taking several steps back.

“Yes you will. Now open that chest.” He pointed at the heavy item which Merlin had lugged up the stairs. Merlin was grateful for the distance created between them. He needed to speak to Arthur now more than anything, about what he’d learned earlier that day and now about this.

A knock came at the door and this time it was Gwen. “Your highness, Lady Morgana is ready to receive you. If you please.” She held the door open for him.

“Leave it.” The king waved Merlin off and put his crown back onto his head. He smiled innocently at Gwen and stepped out. “Take me to her then. Merlin, I want you to serve me hot wine. Be there when I arrive.”

“Yes, sire,” he said with a strange voice. Gwen did not seem to notice and took the lead to take Galorian to wherever Morgana was waiting.

Merlin wasted no time and ran towards the armory, all but tumbling down the stairs. That’s where he had been instructed to take Darren.

Arthur.

He nearly crashed into Sir Kay on the way down, who yelled at him for his clumsiness. He jumped down several steps at a time as me made his way towards the armory, only to find it empty when he got there. Liam stood in the corner, placing two crossbows on a table for cleaning.

“Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“Arth—Prince Arthur. Which direction did he go?”

“He’s left to attend the opening. It starts in a few minutes I think.”

Merlin panicked and left the stunned squire behind. He ran back up to the kitchens to arrange the wine. He saw Audrey, the head of the kitchen, stressed out of her wits instructing the new staff on how to prepare everything correctly. He gulped and moved around her carefully. If he got off to a bad start with Galorian, he would get punished for it. Whatever the punishment might be, it was probably worse than he could fathom. He was absorbed in his own thoughts and it took Audrey several times to catch his attention and tell him to put the pitchers down before he listened.

He explained that he was nervous because he was suddenly serving a king and Audrey smiled at him, slapped him on the shoulder with her large and ungraceful hand and told him not to worry. After she attempted to cheer him up, he noticed one of the three Northern serving girls entering with a similarly worried look on her face. She was a kitchen maid, he realized.

She regarded him directly and held his gaze for a moment before leaving again. Merlin felt sick. He knew that Galorian’s people would spy on him. Obviously they were instructed. And many of them seemed nervous too, now that he thought about it.

He quietly asked Audrey if she had seen something similar. The cook explained to him in the quietest tone that there was a lot of gossip that Galorian was not at all so gallant as he looked, and that he was quite a brutish king. Also, none of the people really knew what happened to his last manservant. Audrey said, with a gentle grin, that she hoped he had managed to get away.

Merlin thought that she didn’t know how right she was.

Trumpets sounded.

“I have to go, thank you.” He picked up the pitchers with only slightly less shaky hands and started running. He was already late, and the wine would likely be cool when he got there. Should he use magic? No, the King was looking for any excuse to find a sorcerer. It would be better to deliver the drink to him lukewarm and face hopefully mild punishment, rather than face the other persecution.

And should he tell the king anything about Emrys? Warn him of the warlock’s great power, and that this person could not be dismissed so easily? No, it would be better not to say anything at all and play dumb. The trumpeting ended and Merlin hadn’t reached the stand yet. He ran faster and some of the wine sloshed over the edges.

At the podium he was stopped by Holden who told him everything had already started.

Merlin caught his breath. “King Galorian has demanded wine. I must bring it.”

“You took all this time to bring wine?”

“He demanded heated wine. I came as fast as I could,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Holden was clearly debating Merlin’s capacity to mess up even the simplest task. “I cannot offend his majesty!” Merlin said at last. At this, Holden moved to the side and Merlin ran up the stairs.

“Don’t make a spectacle!” Holden hissed after him.

Merlin took a deep breath and steadied himself, appearing from behind a curtain and filled King Galorian’s goblet with wine.

“You are late,” the king said.

With those three words, Merlin felt as if he had been sentenced. And still he could not see Arthur anywhere. He was not at the podium, nor on the field. He wouldn’t be hiding in the crowd so he must be at his tent. And it was impossible to go to Arthur’s tent now. Merlin said nothing to the king and tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as the tournament’s opening ceremony began and the various candidates spilled onto the field.

King Galorian’s various knights and his personal favorite champion, Sir Carsen, were introduced at length. Then Camelot’s participating knights came forward and Arthur was the very last one to step onto the field. Merlin held his breath and felt an impossible need for Arthur. One he would have to stifle away.

He regarded only Arthur as the names were announced, and he mechanically poured more wine. The only moment he broke away was when King Galorian turned away from his discussion with Uther to regard his manservant. At that point, Merlin’s interest was vaguely settled in the crowd, directed at no one in particular. The king turned back to his various discussions and Merlin looked for Arthur again. He had the feeling that Arthur returned the gaze, but with the helmet it was impossible to say for certain.

With the utmost frustration he saw Arthur leave the field again, walking straight to Darren and handing him his helmet. Arthur smiled at the boy and laughed at something he said.

Unfairly, Merlin instantly hated the boy.

  
***

As soon as King Uther stood up, indicating that it was time to retreat back into the citadel and change clothes for dinner, Merlin disappeared behind the panel before King Galorian could approach him for anything. He couldn’t stand him. Galorian made him feel weak. He needed to speak to someone about his predicament. Gaius perhaps. Or Arthur. Maybe even the Great Dragon.

Instead, he ran into Gwen in the hallway. She smiled at him and looked around nervously before she took his arm and pulled him into a corridor.

“Merlin, I need to ask you something,” she said in a high pitch.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s… good grief, are you alright?” She looked at him as if she had only just noticed he was there.

“Fine, really. I’ve got a lot of work on my shoulders, that’s all.” He smiled at her despite himself.

“Oh no, I won’t bother you then.”

“Gwen, what is it? If it’s important, perhaps I can help.”

Guinevere hesitated and bit her lip. Several servants were bustling past carrying parcels, food, washed clothing, tapestries, bed stuffing, candles, and all sorts of things. One or two looked down the corridor at them oddly before moving on. Gwen seemed genuinely ill at ease. “I’ve just heard servants talking. One of them heard someone mention, someone from King Galorian’s household—" she paused as someone else walked past. “He used to have a court sorcerer, Merlin. Until recently. Nobody knows what happened.”

“I didn’t hear anything about that. Are you sure?”

“Well, they didn’t say much. I don’t know anything else yet. Do you think it’s important?”

“Very. Oh Gwen, I don’t like this at all.”

“I know! I don’t either. They’re a horrible bunch. Have you seen those three maids who are always gossiping together? Really I—" she stopped. Her dark eyes met Merlin’s innocently, but her countenance had changed. Without moving her lips, she breathed, “We are watched. Got to go.” And within a moment she was out of his sight.

Merlin frowned, he hadn’t even had time to relay a message to Arthur, or even to Morgana. Or anyone for that matter. He walked back into the corridor and saw many faces, some known, some not. All were hard at work and none paid attention to him. Yet he knew that someone was watching and King Galorian’s threat was not an idle one.

  
**\-----16 Arthur-----**

Arthur laughed at Darren’s fumbling with the morning star. “No, see you’ve got to move with its weight. Let it swing for you, it’s not a stick.” They were in Arthur’s tent and had been practicing with several weapons that were now strewn all over the place.

The young boy had taken to him quickly and was eager to learn. He had a focus to him and a thirst for battle that Arthur liked to see in new recruits. The boy had only made some small mistakes when putting on his armor, but Arthur had concluded that the Northerners wore their pauldrons slightly differently to theirs and had let the boy correct himself on the spot.

“I want to be as strong as you,” Darren said and beamed at Arthur.

“It doesn’t happen by itself, you know. Discipline is the most important factor in this, and nobility. You are of a royal family so you must always act with care. Your behavior off the battlefield is as important as on it.” The boy nodded eagerly and took it all in. Arthur was used to training the young family members of local nobles and many expressed their honor in being chosen to be trained as knights. Not all of them were particularly suited for it though, despite their family’s wishes when they were sent here. This boy, Arthur decided, would make a great knight right away. And he didn’t complain as much as Merlin.

Arthur thought about Merlin for a moment as the boy continued to practice his swinging. He’d assumed that Merlin was fine with the new appointment at King Galorian’s side. If he wasn’t, he’d expected the other to complain about it mercilessly to him one way or another. He would have had word by now. And of course Darren was only assisting Arthur during the day. George would fill in for the rest of the duties. How dull his evenings would be.

“Yes, that’s it. Much better. Now, again and steady your feet.”

He thought back to Merlin on the podium. How he’d stared at him. For a brief moment he had been acutely aware of everything Merlin had said to him in the last few days. It overshadowed all the instructions his father had given him leading up to the tournament, and it blotted out all of Leon’s words of wisdom and even Morgana’s recent teases. Merlin considered it his job to protect him. And he had seemed out of sorts.

It wasn’t something he could easily describe. Merlin was too careful when it came to these things and he hadn’t been paying any special attention in the last year to his servant’s actions or expressions. Why should he? However, if Merlin thought that anyone would be a danger to him, he would let him know.

He looked at Darren. Impossible. Darren was just a boy and seemed to revere Arthur. That was nothing new to Arthur, of course. He ventured some questions. “What’s it like back home? Do you get to train with your cousins, Galorian’s sons?”

Darren stopped swinging and put the weapon down. “No, he had only one son who died young. But I train with the other knights sometimes. They spoil me though. Not like you.”

“Oh, you will certainly be put to the test here,” he grinned and the boy grinned with him.

“So why did your uncle travel without a manservant? Surely on a journey of this scale it would be highly inconvenient.”

Darren’s attitude changed and he shrugged. “I don’t know. He just did.”

And there it was. Cause for concern. Arthur looked around at the mess of weapons and the old shield which had been receiving Darren’s concentrated blows. There was nobody else around as many people had already gone inside to change. Arthur was stalling and now he assumed he could make good use of it.

“What was his name?” he ventured.

The boy looked at him with surprise and started to speak. “I can’t say.”

Arthur laughed. “Why not? Surely a man who served your king should be known to you.”

Darren shuffled his feet. “He died. I’m not allowed to talk about him.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Well, let’s see how Merlin is getting on then, shall we?” He picked up the pile of gear and shoved it into Darren’s arms. The boy looked nervous still but Arthur patted him on the shoulder. “It will be alright.”

“I’m told I cannot disturb uncle. Can I wait in the entrance hall instead?” His big eyes almost pleaded.

Arthur nodded at the boy. He was the royal nephew after all and could not be denied total ease during his stay. He dismissed the thought from his mind that Darren could possibly be ordered to harm him in any way. He shifted his attentions instead to the knights, particularly their champion, Sir Carsen. He was a tall man. The biggest eye-catcher was the man’s very long, very unkempt red beard. His exercises on the field today displayed brute strength, but it would likely make him slow when it came to agility.

He continued pondering about Merlin on the way back to the castle after sending Darren off to the armory. Once inside, he was nearly cornered by Gaius who told him it would be most important and urgent to meet his father in his private chambers right away.

“Yes, of course. Has anything happened?”

“No, but we should hear it presently,” Gaius said mysteriously, and Arthur didn’t press. It was twice as busy as normal in the castle and anything they discussed might be picked up along the way. He wondered why his father was not using the council chambers, but assumed that it might be seen as a slight to Sir Galorian to be discussing matters of state during festivities. So he followed quietly.

tCrossing the hallway, he saw a glimpse of Merlin, who was carrying a stack of linen in the direction of the southern wing where their guests were staying. He wanted to call out to him, but thought it may be inappropriate. He followed Gaius instead.

Inside King Uther’s private chambers Holden held the door for them. Geoffrey, Sir Leon, and George were already waiting. King Uther sat in his chair next to the window and rubbed a gloved hand up and down his chin. Holden ordered the eight guards outside the door to not let anyone close, then locked it closed. They could then begin discussing.

“Holden, your account please,” Uther said with surly voice.

“Sire, it has come to light from the servant’s quarters, though they are extremely tight-lipped about any sort of magic use, that King Galorian has until recently kept a court sorcerer. It was not a well-known fact by his political alliances, but the staff members were aware.”

“Could this be? I thought they abolished magic years ago,” Gaius said incredulously.

“It could have been done in secret,” Geoffrey added.

“What is the point of having an appointed member of state, if they do not operate on stately business?” Gaius wondered.

“These questions are unknown to me. What is most pressing is that whoever it is, may now be here within Camelot,” Uther distilled.

After a deep silence Arthur was the first to speak. “If his staff members were aware, they could point him out. Holden, can you investigate?”

“Not without offending King Galorian,” Holden said matter-of-factly. Uther also understood the delicacy of the situation. An accusation in this manner after both parties had accepted the terms of magic use within Camelot would be an affront if proven unjust.

“Yes. We need to find more information first. Have the staff report to you. Arthur, I want you to increase the number of guards stationed at your door at night. Nobody is to enter.”

“Not even anyone from our own household?” Arthur asked.

“George may, of course, attend to your services,” Uther said. It was not what Arthur had meant.

“Then I advise to do the same for Morgana. She was not invited into this council meeting, but she has received special attention and might be better off with extra protection as well.”

“Make it so.” The king waved a dismissive hand toward Holden, who left.

“Wait,” Arthur stopped when Holden had just unlocked the door. “What about Merlin?” Gaius turned to look at Arthur with a brow raised. Uther gave Arthur a look of extreme tiredness.

“What about him? He is occupied by the King and is best left in the man’s service. If we extract him now, it will raise the worst sort of suspicion. He must be avoided at all cost,” Holden said, looking at Uther instead of Arthur. The king nodded his consent.

“Surely he gets to—"

“He is just a servant, Arthur. Right now is not the time for concern.”

Arthur disagreed vehemently on the inside. This was exactly the time for concern. “Yes, father.” He was going to disobey him, and so soon after finding out about Merlin. No, perhaps he shouldn’t. It was too soon and too dangerous. This time, he could not interfere.

  
**\-----17 Merlin-----**

The preparations for dinner had been the calmest moment of his day, which was in stark contrast to of all the other servants who were working hard around him. He had worked as hard as any of the other servants arranging the various tables, lighting candles, and bringing dishes before all of the guests arrived. He did not speak to anyone and instead kept his ears peeled.

There was an increasing hubbub along the corridors about situations in the the kingdom of Foltaig. Enemies they were facing, famous bandits who got sympathies from some and disdain from others. Nothing that was of value to Merlin. He learned that Arthur was very pleased with his new squire and gossip started that Darren might be left at Camelot in a permanent placement.

It was just gossip, Merlin tried to convince himself. Surely he could not be so easily replaced. His entire being told him to escape and to talk to someone about his concerns. What if Arthur wasn’t safe?

And what if he was in danger because he was Emrys? He had never understood how this other name was spread so far and wide and he had no notion of it until his arrival at Camelot. Apparently it reached far and wide beyond the Northern borders and didn’t fail to raise interest even there. Emrys resided within Camelot, this was known. Of course, Camelot was large enough to keep anyone’s identity hidden. Any information Merlin would find for King Galorian could be misinformation or incomplete. And any falsehoods would result in punishment.

“Merlin!” Holden called out his name as he was overseeing the placement of all the dinner plates. The man looked as stressed as he was. “You’ve got the order wrong, Sir Carsen goes here, Sir Leon sits over on that side. Pay attention!”

“Yes. Of course.” He was nearly thankful for the distraction from his dark thoughts.

“Word has come to us that King Galorian is already displeased with your attitude. You’ll have to work harder at this, Merlin. I know Arthur jokes around, but Galorian is a king and will not be disappointed.”

His gratitude waned away. “Yes, I will do all I can,” he said with a voice lighter than he felt.

“Then go dress him for dinner. He has been waiting!”

The hour of terror for Merlin arrived and he nodded to Holden, rushing down the hall. His heart thudded in his chest. He knew that that man was waiting for him, not just to dress him for dinner. He would have to report and serve him any way the man wanted. He knocked on the door to Galorian’s chambers and entered.

“Ah there you are, boy.” The man was all smiles. “I had started to suspect you might have fled.” He put his hands on both sides of Merlin’s face, holding his cheeks. “But you already know you can’t.” There was a mean curl on the man’s lip.

“Sire, would you like to get dressed for dinner?”

King Galorian chuckled lightly and lowered his hands. Before Merlin realized what was happening, the king was gripping his throat and squeezing tight. “You will not presume anything. You will speak when spoken to.”

Merlin nodded in fright and mentally strained against his hands moving up to try to pry those fingers away from his throat. After several seconds the king let go and he could breathe again.

“First and foremost, I will hear what you have to tell me about the sorcerer. Speak up.”

Merlin cleared his throat. “The name is unknown, sire. To the staff. To our staff.”

“Unsatisfactory!” Galorian yelled at him.

“I don’t know anything about this sorcerer, I don’t know what to ask...” he ventured.

“He resides here, you useless goose! He is foretold and he is supposed to be mighty powerful.” The man licked his lips grossly and rubbed his ringed hands together.

“How powerful?”

“You haven’t had enough power to know what it’s like. You are supposed to find him and bring him to me!”

“I’ve hardly had any time!” Merlin protested. “I wish to serve you, sire. Please, I beg you, give me more time.”

“If you don’t, I will start punishing the others around you. I know who you speak with. I know exactly who you hold in high esteem. Don’t think that I won’t find out if you have been slacking. You will see the consequences and you will know that it’s all your fault.”

Merlin looked down at the ground. It was impossible to say whether the man’s threat was idle or not. He could not let this happen to anyone else. This man’s cruel vice on him was bad enough. If only he could ensure that his treatment wouldn’t allow for anyone else to suffer. He would just have to endure it. “I will work harder!”

A twinkle sparked in the corner of Galorian’s eyes and he was appeased for the moment. “Come to me immediately when you learn more.”

“Yes, sire.” His gut was knotted. Tonight he would definitely go out and ask someone. After the man had gone to sleep.

“Now, I will be dressed.”

Merlin walked over to the man’s large chest that held his belongings and set to work to empty it, carefully placing each item into the guest room cupboard. The thought of this man with a court sorcerer, as Gwen had told him, frightened him. If Galorian was familiar with the ways of magic, then he knew what to watch for. “What would you like to wear?”

“The dark red, the one with the pearls.”

Merlin bent over into the chest to pick up the doublet the king had indicated. When he leaned back to get up, the man was behind him. The king leaned in over Merlin and put a hand on his back to keep him from standing up. Galorian’s hips touched Merlin’s in a slow grind. Merlin clenched his teeth and struggled not to resist. Disgust flowed through him as the king’s intentions were entirely clear. He felt the man’s obvious desire starting up, pressing against his thigh.

“Don’t stop now,” the man purred down at Merlin. As Merlin grabbed the doublet he noticed something heavy folded within weighed it down. At that moment Galorian grabbed his hip and the horrified warlock dropped the whole thing. “Watch it!”

As Merlin started to apologize a fist to his side knocked him straight over. He fell down beside the chest with the king glaring over him.

“You will be more careful with my belongings. Now if I need to make an excuse as to why I am late, it will be on your head. Hurry up!”

Merlin took a deep breath and set his resolve. He locked all his fears and pain, as well as his disgust and shame away into the familiar enclosures within him, such as where his pride and acknowledgement hid away, deep inside. He climbed to his feet again and shook the doublet so that whatever was inside would not be picked up as well. He was successful and heard a clunk down below in the chest.

He raised the material in front of the king who extended his arms to put it on. Merlin pulled the entire affair over his head and down around the man’s waist. He could smell the king’s rank breath and stains of old sweat as he worked so close. All the while, he was conscious of the man’s eyes on him, and he took care not to answer that gaze. The king might think him petrified and was obviously taking pleasure from that.

What that man did not know was that Merlin found his strength in this situation. His regard for himself was not that high, and the extent to which he would go to ensure the safety of others was not something King Galorian could fathom. As he fastened the man’s cuffs and buttoned up the last material all the way up to his chin and handed him his crown, he did so without spirit, as was expected.

Inside he burned.

The King seemed immensely satisfied with Merlin’s meekness and ordered him to follow him towards the throne room to the feast. He passed many people in the hall and marked them all though he did not look at any of them. He ignored Gwen’s small greeting as well as several others he knew. For all their concern, he was taking his job seriously. It would implicate fewer staff for Galorian to target. 

They entered the throne room and King Galorian walked straight up to the dais and took his seat. Merlin walked along the side of the wall, avoiding King Uther and even Prince Arthur’s gaze and stood behind the king’s throne, ready to serve after the opening of the feast. People were still entering. The Lady Morgana wore a beautiful white dress which showed off her figure and Galorian made a remark of appreciation towards Uther.

Merlin was abhorred with the ease that this man lied about his affections.

To make matters worse, Darren had been given a seat at Arthur’s right hand at the table and they were chatting away merrily. This had been a most terrible day. Fortunately, the meals seemed to occupy both kings quite effectively. Merlin served food and wine and did so without saying anything but ‘Yes, sire’ and ‘No, sire.’ He even received a look which bordered on appreciation from Holden.

During one moment when the kings were in deep discussion, he walked over to Gaius. “I need to speak with Arthur. Tonight. Invite him to your workshop.”

Gaius smiled at him innocently. “He’s fine, Merlin. Look at him.”

“Please, Gaius. This once, no questions.”

The physician looked up at him with a look of pure surprise. The only fortunate thing was that they were turned away from the dais.

Merlin smiled at Gaius pleasantly in case anyone was watching. “There’s trouble. Please.”

At once Gaius understood the urgency and he nodded. King Galorian was just turning to look. “Why, of course, my boy,” his master acknowledged.

Merlin bowed at Gaius and retreated to Galorian’s side, checking to see if he needed to be served more wine. Merlin made sure to top Galorian’s goblet up as much as possible. The king did not mention anything and perhaps the small discussion with Gaius had gone entirely unnoticed. Merlin searched for Holden in order to refill his pitchers but couldn’t see him in the room. Arthur was pleasantly engaged with Darren and had avoided Merlin the entire night. Hopefully that would change later.

The evening went on without any further events and it was close to midnight when Galorian decided to retreat to his chambers. King Galorian was entirely drunk and Merlin had rarely felt the need to be thankful to Uther for anything until this evening.

Unbeknownst to the King of Camelot, he had potentially saved Merlin’s life that night. At the very least his dignity. Galorian went quietly to his bed and sunk into a dirty drunken sleep within minutes after Merlin had taken off his crown, belt, jewels, and clothes. He hadn’t even been awake long enough to properly put on a night shirt. Merlin did not fight it. He would face whatever consequences might come from that in the morning.

  
***

His limbs could hardly carry him any further after the nerve-wracking day he had, but once everything was cleaned and sorted for the next morning, and with nothing for King Galorian to complain about, Merlin finally reached Gaius’s workroom at midnight. Gaius was alone.

“Did you ask him?”

“Yes, I did. Come, Merlin. Sit down.”

“Why isn’t he here then?” he demanded impatiently.

“I have also heard of some troubles, I’m afraid. This time from some people in town.”

Merlin stalked through the room. He couldn’t fit the pieces together. There was so much missing. And where was—

The door opened and Merlin spun around. There was Arthur, unaccompanied. He looked at Merlin with a frown. “Have you any idea what it took to get away? There are twelve guards stationed at my door tonight.”

All of a sudden Merlin was too anxious to explain the full situation to Arthur. He paced around the room and his hands were in his hair. If Arthur had been given additional guards, then what was King Galorian after? And if the topic would shift to magic… Gaius still didn’t know that Arthur knew.

“What’s up with him?” Arthur scoffed at Gaius, pointing at Merlin. He sat down next to Gaius at the table and watched Merlin’s huff in amusement.

“Merlin, why don’t you start to explain why we are here?” Gaius offered.

“It’s the king. There is something terrible…” Everything on the inside came tumbling out now that he was surrounded by friendly faces. He felt like shouting, crying, and running away all at once. He saw their curious faces and stopped pacing. “King Galorian. He is looking for a sorcerer within Camelot. He’s looking for one specifically, and if I don’t bring him information he will see me punished.”

“You’ve been punished before, surely,” Arthur said.

Merlin thought of the stocks. “No. No.”

“Word from servants who were in town reached my ears. It seems that Galorian is a particularly cruel king. He has a history of torture and… other means,” Gaius offered Merlin a way out of that which he could not say. Merlin was grateful for the physician’s piercing senses.

Arthur looked up then. “You’re not talking about his court sorcerer?”

Merlin sat down opposite Arthur. “No, he’s looking for one in particular. He gave me his name.” He looked down. Gaius put an encouraging hand on his arm.

“Well, what is his name?” Arthur asked. “And does he reside here, do you know?”

Merlin only shook his head. “I know who it is. But I can’t say anything.” He twisted his way between the two men helping him. He was certain that Gaius understood him completely.

The old man shook his head. “The word given is that he has tortured magic users frequently. It seems he was after some information and, quite possibly, it could have been about the whereabouts of this particular sorcerer.”

Arthur bit his lip. He added in a steady, threatening voice. “If you are abiding someone within Camelot…” Merlin understood that he had to threaten him. He was not ready to confront Gaius with Arthur’s knowledge, or he would have done so already.

“No, Arthur.”

Gaius’s keen eyes moved back and forth between the two.

“Darren is afraid of him too, I know that much.” Arthur shifted the topic. “But when I ask him to talk about his uncle, the boy only sings his praise.”

Merlin hated the fact that Arthur was so observant of the boy’s particular attentions. That squire had effectively been the convenient reason that Merlin was in his predicament. “The servants too,” he added. “They are afraid. They avoid discussing anything related to magic openly, but discuss it frequently when they think nobody is listening.”

“I’m afraid you must learn of something else tonight too,” Gaius said slowly. “Just this evening a group of these servants were interrogated in town by several of Camelot’s guards. The particular topic was sorcery.”

“What?!” Arthur shouted. “This is strictly forbidden. It goes against the agreement made with King Galorian.”

“I do not know who is behind it. All I know is that we need to be extra cautious. Now that the bond of trust is faded, they will equally be trying to listen in on us.”

“There are already spies sent to follow me.” Merlin hung his head.

“Who?”

“I think it’s those three kitchen maids, they’re always together.”

“What on earth are they spying on you for?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“To see if I make a mistake. If I do, the king will execute punishment in person.” He could not meet Arthur’s eyes. He stared at the table, hard. “And there is nothing I can say to stop serving him. If I remove myself from his service, it would aggravate him further. And he would…”

“I’m afraid you cannot stop serving him, Merlin, though it pains me to say it,” Gaius said. “Just be sure not to reveal anything related to any sorcery just yet. Go on, it’s time to sleep.”

Merlin looked defeated. “You need to help me, Gaius.”

“If there is anything I can do, I will do it. But at this moment my hands are tied as much as yours.”

Merlin shook his head. He did not know how to clarify his predicament any further without painting a picture of extreme disgust before Arthur. It could not be done.

“I’ll find out what I can,” Arthur said. He noticed Merlin’s distress keenly and was not at all appeased with this evening’s conversation. Merlin even less so. He was grateful for Arthur’s presence there, even if it was only for a moment. The prince bid the others good night and left quickly. Their meeting had not been long and his absence would go unmarked. Merlin hoped it with every fiber in his being.

Merlin looked up at Gaius. “You understand.”

“I don’t fully understand. Tell me, he is looking for Emrys, yes? But he does not know where to find him.”

Merlin nodded.

“And his torture, it goes beyond that.”

He nodded again.

A dark shadow set on Gaius’s face. He had seen it before, that much was clear. And he had dreaded the day he would see it again. “I can only give you something for the pain.”

“No.” Merlin got up from the table. “No, thank you, Gaius.” If anything, that made it worse.

“Then let’s hope the day will bring its own distractions to the court.” Gaius bowed his head and with that, Merlin escaped up into his small room for a night of uneasy sleep.

  
**\-----18 Arthur-----**

Arthur’s morning started pleasantly with a solid breakfast and Darren waiting for him in the entrance hall to start their training. The knights were energetic and the weather was good. The dark cloud inside Arthur’s mind had everything to do with last night’s conversation. He performed all his duties as were expected of him and yet he could not let something go. It seemed lately that he was at a loss regarding Merlin. He knew what the man was, he knew what he could do. And yet, last night he’d spent several hours before he was able to sleep, recalling their conversation. Until it hit him. Merlin was scared. Beyond his wits.

It was not something he was able to shake off. It went beyond the duty to his people although he couldn’t explain why. Merlin was his friend, and he was scared desperately about what was happening. So while he pummeled a large mace against the shield of one of the Northern knights, he was still trying to put the pieces together. He was interrupted when it seemed that more than one person was shouting at him.

“Prince Arthur!” Darren ran up to him. “Please sire, you are wanted immediately. Holden has been placed under arrest. They’re in the council chambers.”

Arthur dumped his mace and shield in Darren’s hands and followed one of Camelot’s servants inside. “Tell me everything you know.”

“Sire?” the young woman asked. She was a girl in her teens with blonde curly hair.

“Everything, until we get to the council.”

“I only know word-of-mouth, sire.” She meant gossip.

“Then share it.” They marched through the hallway and he took care to distinguish Camelot's servants from the others as he walked. “Quickly now.”

“Oh, some of our guards cornered King Galorian’s servants in town. They were asked many questions. A-about magic, sire. I think about ten people were questioned. They formalized a complaint which the King has brought forward.”

“Were any sorcerers mentioned?” Arthur asked pointedly while they walked.

“Just one. The king had a sorcerer once, who lived at court. But he’s dead, they say.”

Dead. Then the sorcerer was definitely not in Camelot. At least not that one. “Anyone else?”

“No, sire. Though there was some talk about someone called Nimueh. They said she was a court sorceress once.”

Arthur stopped. “She was what?”

“I don’t know. She served a king, I suppose?”

“Which king?”

“They didn’t say.”

“But Nimueh is dead, surely?” Arthur pressed.

“I don’t know, sire.”

Arthur grabbed her by the arms and the poor girl turned pale. “Do you know of any magic users inside Camelot?”

She shook her head. “No, sire. Or I would report them to get Holden out. He’s done us a service, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Arthur let her go and nodded. “Thank you for your words.” She scuttled off to return to her duties, and Arthur turned towards the council chambers.

“…absolutely scandalous!” King Galorian’s voice echoed through the hallway. Arthur took a deep breath and pushed both doors open as he entered. The council had gathered already; made up of his father, Geoffrey, Gaius, Sir Leon, Sir Carsen, and several other knights. Holden was absent. So was Merlin, Arthur noticed.

“I agree entirely. The agreement which was given at the start stands and should never have been broken. We are investigating at this very moment,” King Uther said calmly, standing opposite King Galorian.

“I highly doubt Holden went out by himself to investigate.”

“I did not order this, Galorian. You would do well to remember.” King Uther, the only man who could threaten the Northern king, leaned forward as he said so and it had some impact.

“You are not in control of your staff, sire. It is painfully obvious from my point of view.”

That word, Arthur noticed. Control.

“What are the exact accounts?” Uther asked, and Geoffrey rolled out the report and started to read. It spoke of a group of twenty or so guards who had been sent into town in the late hours to find if any of King Galorian’s people were at that moment in town inquiring after magic use. The word went that there might be a magic user among Galorian’s people—at that, Galorian scoffed in disbelief—and various efforts were invoked during interrogation to try and find out if any of them were the culprit. No arrests were made, but the word spread and the guards were questioned. One guard pointed at Holden for the task given as he was Camelot’s steward.

“I can scarcely believe it,” Uther said. “He raised his concerns with me before, but taking action was expressly forbidden.”

Arthur regarded his father. At that very moment he knew that Uther had expressly ordered Holden to do exactly that. Holden was taking the fall for his father’s inquiries. How often had this happened before, he wondered? “Has he admitted to it?” Arthur asked. He refrained from mentioning Nimueh because he knew how this name distressed his father.

“Fully,” Geoffrey said. “It seems his mind was not at rest and he claims that he thought only of his king’s safety.”

Arthur knew where he heard such words before. “Then what will his sentence be?”

King Uther thought long about that and all eyes were on him. The man knew this. At length he answered. “As nobody was hurt, Holden will spend a night in jail to consider his actions.”

King Galorian was outraged. “A night in jail? He should be hanged for defying you! Flogged at the very least.”

“Are you questioning my rule within my own castle walls? I would caution you to consider otherwise. I have known Holden long and this is a behavior unknown to me. He will be questioned further and if anything else comes to light, it will be put to trial.”

Again, Arthur found that Galorian was silenced by his father’s words. He admired him for his unwavering attitude and his steady voice. All the while as King Uther didn’t even know that Galorian was searching for a sorcerer right within Camelot too. 

Then it hit him.

He was searching for Merlin. That’s why he was so scared. The Northern king had Merlin out looking for himself and Merlin couldn’t possibly turn himself in.

“…Arthur?” Sir Leon bumped his elbow.

“Sorry, what?”

“Both kings are starting the interrogations now. Do you wish to join?”

“No, I should return to the field. After all, this is in essence a festive occasion and I do not see that the many noble knights should not be entertained.”

His father smiled at him and nodded. “You are right, of course.”

As he left the room his head spun with the many consequences. His father was left without a manservant now, something he could deal with but which wasn’t favorable in light of all of Foltaig's servants bustling about the castle.

Secondly, it was never confirmed whether or not a sorcerer had _traveled_ with King Galorian. Although it seemed more and more that such a person was the very servant Darren had been so reluctant to talk about. King Galorian’s manservant. The court sorcerer in the North. He was certain that they were one and the same.

And now he wanted Merlin. Or he wanted someone. Merlin had been given a name to find, which obviously wasn’t his own name. Perhaps there was another. Someone Merlin was protecting. Had he lied to him again?

His thoughts turned to Holden. His fate seemed unclear. King Galorian was ready to have the man’s head for questioning his servants. But he knew there were spies among them as well. Some spying on Merlin, perhaps some spying on others within Camelot. It was a dirty affair.

He had no more time to think. Merlin would probably be busy all day anyway. Kept away from any affairs that mattered. He walked outside and saw Darren in the distance. The boy waved at him and he waved back. To his fortune Gwen was just passing him by. He grabbed her by the arm.

“Ow!” she protested.

“Gwen, I’m sorry this is important. Tell Merlin he is to meet me at the eastern tower after his duties, at midnight. It must be a secret to everyone else. No servants either from Camelot or from King Galorian may know.”

“Yes, I understand. Don’t squeeze, please.”

He let go of her arm. “Gwen, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can see you’re stressed. I’ll deliver your message if I can. And if I cannot, I will let you know.”

“What do you mean if you cannot?”

“Nobody has seen Merlin all morning,” she answered curiously. It was rather odd that Arthur had not heard about that. But then again, these were very busy days. “I’m sure he’ll pop up later,” she added.

“Right. And thanks!” he shouted after her as she resumed her work. If it wasn't for this stupid tournament he could assist with the investigations. He could find out where Merlin was and if he was in danger. “Ridiculous,” he said to himself. His concern was getting out of hand. For the rest of the afternoon he resolved to concentrate on training the noblemen in the ways of battle.

  
***

In light of the recent arrest there was no feast that night. The lords ate privately in their chambers and the corridors were quiet after hours. Arthur had not drunk, despite George’s insistence, and he had ordered the manservant to look after his father instead.

Without George’s knowledge he had followed him towards the eastern tower where his father resided and he stood in the shadows waiting for Merlin to show. Gwen had not knocked on his door all evening and he had to assume that her message was delivered.

It took twenty long minutes, but at last Merlin was there, walking casually along the hallway as if he was not just secretly meeting up with the prince. For a moment, Arthur wondered just how good Merlin was at hiding in plain sight. The answer became apparent as he turned the corner and all but bumped into Arthur.

Merlin’s demeanor changed and he ducked into the shadows behind Arthur. Not before the prince noted a large red bruise on his cheek.

“What’s this?” he asked with authority.

Merlin moved a step back, out of the light. “Nothing, sire.”

Arthur felt sick. Already the very things Merlin was afraid of were showing. “Did you get away safely?”

“For a short while,” he said. Merlin looked around and Arthur noticed more bruises just above the scarf around his neck.

“Holden has been arrested, have you heard?”

“Just bits and pieces. Do you think he did it?”

“Yes, and on my father’s orders most likely.” Though it pained him to speak the words aloud, he was certain of it.

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes I can, Merlin.”

“What if it was planned so that Holden would be away.” Merlin pointed up the stairs at the door to King Uther’s private chambers. Several guards were stationed outside but apart from that there was no special precaution.

“That’s why I’m here. Waiting to see.” He assumed whoever was behind it would show.

“Do you think your father specifically planned it so that King Galorian would reveal his intentions?”

Arthur stared at Merlin. He had not thought that far ahead. “Yes, obviously.” He gave Merlin a dubious look.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Merlin said.

Arthur was stumped for words but gave Merlin a pat on the shoulder to which he winced. For a reason he could not describe, he physically felt Merlin’s pain at that moment, and what he was undergoing and how powerless everyone was to change the situation. “I’m going to get you out of this, Merlin. You have to believe me.”

The sorcerer glared at him. “You must not. Everything depends on you and me being in our places and finding out what’s actually going on.”

“Your place is by _my_ side,” Arthur said. He was not at all prepared for the look of gratitude Merlin gave him. Merlin was saying no but everything else Arthur saw was communicating yes.

“What else have you learned?” Merlin asked, changing the subject.

“That he used to have a manservant who is now dead. And most likely a sorcerer too,” Arthur watched as Merlin swallowed an answer to that. _I’m not going to let that happen to you!_ He couldn’t say it out loud, but he felt it. He knew Merlin felt it too when their eyes met.

“Anything else?” Merlin broke the awkward silence at last.

“Someone said Nimueh was a court sorcerer, that she served—"

“Shh!” Merlin interrupted. Moments later Arthur heard the footsteps too.

Their echoes sounded louder and one of the three kitchen maids from the twitchy group of King Galorian’s bunch turned the corner toward them. She had a bandage on her arm, most likely from being “interrogated” the evening before by Holden’s authority.

“What are you doing here?” Arthur stopped her. The girl looked up at the two of them with a small gasp. Before Arthur fully understood what happened, the girl presented Merlin, not Arthur, a small package. It was wrapped in a decorated dark blue linen cloth and contained a foot long braid of red hair.

“Hide it from the King. It should go to Em—"

The moment that Merlin opened his mouth to ask a question more footsteps were heard. The girl’s eyes widened and she snatched the package back and kept on walking. She left around the corner without another word.

Arthur had noticed her distress too and turned the other corner towards the advancing footsteps. “Who goes there?” The two of them heard only a scurrying of feet in the opposite direction, hidden by the darkness that the night brought. It seemed that whoever was following the woman had been caught in the act and had run away. Arthur moved to follow but he heard Merlin’s gasp behind him. He spun back to see Merlin more distressed even than the previous night. He looked into his blue eyes which were filled with terror.

“She knows.” It was all Arthur said.

She knew who the sorcerer was King Galorian wanted and she had selected Merlin to do the job. Or she had discovered that he was the one they were after. Merlin covered his hand with his mouth. For the first time, Arthur fully comprehended the effects of his father’s merciless persecution. How much Merlin had had to hide from the world. Everything about it felt _wrong_.

“Perhaps,” Arthur said, “she doesn’t know, perhaps she is not under his control. Perhaps the other one I chased off was.” Merlin didn’t answer him, he was simply shaking. Arthur stepped forward and put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, trying to meet his eyes. He couldn’t stand to see Merlin broken like this. But Merlin would not stop shaking.

Arthur didn’t know how he could make this right for Merlin. He couldn’t stand to see that misery on his face and he abandoned all propriety and drew Merlin into his arms. He held Merlin close to him, feeling the other’s shivers against his chest. He was powerless to change Merlin’s situation, but he could give him this comfort. After several moments Merlin’s hands clung to his sides, then snaked up his back. Arthur relished in feeling Merlin’s warmth against him. He would do anything to help him, he knew that now. “I will find a way to get you out of this,” he promised against Merlin’s ear, and he felt Merlin’s grip tighten.

It wasn’t long afterwards that the guard changed in front of Uther’s room and they disentangled. Arthur could not meet Merlin’s gaze and they turned away from each other uneasily, using the bustle of the guard’s footsteps to wordlessly exit the tower and head back to their own rooms for sleep.

  
***

Arthur concluded after breakfast that whatever had occurred the previous night, the girl who had brought Merlin the package had not been on King Galorian’s side. He’d spotted Merlin at breakfast in the throne room, looking composed and serving the king specially requested warm dishes. The bruise on his cheek was noticeable. Apart from it, all outward appearances showed nothing out of the ordinary at all. As he puzzled together all the implications, he found himself admiring Merlin’s courage. It was greater than most of his knights possessed.

After that moment, the day was wrought with its own problems. It seemed that they weren’t catching any breaks. The worst part was that that afternoon the first tournament battles would begin and he was part of the opening.

He had been talking to Galorian’s knights and Arthur noticed very markedly that some of the noble men were more at ease talking about their king than others. He discovered that the ones who were happier in their demeanor and genuinely looking forward to the upcoming battles generally knew less about their king or had not been in service that long. One of Galorian’s knights had gone missing entirely.

There was a short, brown-haired knight who had an easy smile. He complained loudly about Holden’s interrogations and bodily searches. “Certain servants just can’t be trusted, either here in Camelot or from our own party.”

“How do you mean that?”

“Well, you never know the nature of those among either, really. The only people you can be certain of are those descendant from noble families.”

“Your meaning, good sir knight?” Arthur pressed.

“We should not have been questioned in the first place!”

“I agree with that,” he smiled at the knight. “On the field, we’ll show our valor where it matters.” He patted the man on the shoulder.

“You miss my meaning, sire,” the man said to him. “There’s one particular pair who is up to no good, see. I’m afraid they’re from our bunch. They should not spend so much time snooping around. It reflects badly on us.”

“And who might that be? I can have our staff look into it if you like.”

“Three kitchen lasses. I’ve seen them walk around like they were up to no good.”

“I believe I know the very ones. Thank you, sir. And do you have anything to share of the other knights attending?”

“Well, Sir Carsen here has expressed that he wouldn’t mind to win the Lady Morgana instead of a pair of handsome jewels.” The man laughed heartily.

“I can safely say King Uther will forbid it. But he’s welcome to dream.”

After their odd conversation, Arthur spent most of his time talking to the knights about the time table coming up and the local customs. He spoke of the weapons, their sequences, and when the winners would be announced so that nobody would be left unaware. Several of Camelot’s knights recounted stories from the past of things going wrong during previous tournaments, to the hearty enjoyment of all men attending. And soon the arrival of King Uther and the other royal members attending were announced. Arthur removed himself from present company to greet his father and Morgana.

Morgana looked beautiful in a deep green colored dress and a black cloak across her shoulders. Silver jewels lined her dress, neck, and even her hair. Arthur walked up to her with a smile.

“Are you ready for a day of watching men bashing their heads together?”

“I’ll watch if your head might be bashed,” she said with a grin.

“You’ll never see that happen.” Arthur put his hands on his hips.

“I already have, and with great pleasure.”

Behind Morgana, at some distance, Arthur saw King Galorian walk up to the podium with Merlin in tow. The bruise on Merlin's cheek stood out against the brightness of midday. No doubt he’d already made up an excuse for it to anyone who asked.

“How is your new squire, Darren? He seems a very eager young lad,” Morgana asked conversationally.

“Oh, he’s great. He has quite some battle knowledge already, and he’s good at sharpening weapons and has keen abilities. Much better than Merlin in that area.”

“Well yes, if you’re raised in a castle instead of the fields.” She gave him a knowing look.

“Yes, yes. What is it you’re saying, Morgana?”

“Nothing, just… your squire is afraid of his king. And Merlin has looked better.”

Once more Morgana’s keen eye surprised him. He looked in the direction that Merlin had taken to enter the podium. “Yes, I’ve noticed it too.”

“Just this morning, Merlin requested a meeting with Gaius from Galorian. He expressly forbade Merlin from meeting his own master.” She raised her eyebrows as if the meaning was clear.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Just…” She struggled for words. “Don’t put too much trust in someone temporary. And don’t share your secrets.”

“Thank you, Morgana.” He nodded at her diplomatic suggestion. “Did you hear that Sir Carsen is quite taken with you?”

“I should hope he would sooner fancy a bath one of these days.” She gave him a hearty laugh and dismissed it.

“Now _that_ I had not noticed, thank you,” Arthur said, somewhat uncomfortable.

“The manners of these Northerners are quite different, or perhaps it’s simply their way to win the tournament.”

They joked some more until King Uther needed Morgana on the podium beside him and Arthur was instructed back to his tent.

  
**\-----19 Merlin-----**

It was late afternoon and the first day of fighting was over. Arthur had won all his battles, Merlin was pleased to see. Several other knights proved to be very skilled as well. None of them behaved in a way that indicated intent to endanger Arthur. That much was clear. It was a good day. Except that it wasn’t.

King Galorian had been worse than before. Merlin had bruises all over his back, ribs, and thighs. Merlin’s loose fitting clothes covered all of them, except those near his wrist and just above the show of his neck scarf. No one had asked about it. No one had in fact seen him. Entire days had been spent working through the king’s many requests and demands, and he was kept in the room more often than not. He wasn’t sure whether it was his shame or his pride, at their own opposite ends, which prevented him from showing any pain.

The treatment he received had slowly worn down his defenses and he had been tempted to use magic once or twice to protect himself, but fear had gotten hold of him. He had stood shaking next to Galorian’s bed, his arm twisted around his back and pressed forward over the bed. The king hadn’t executed anything beyond a rough fondle, and it was the only reason Merlin could stand still and serve the man. His words would not be heard by anyone if he did complain. Not by anyone who could change it.

He had no time to visit Arthur and was forbidden from speaking to Gaius entirely. Gwen had been occupied, and even the knights of Camelot had never been without company to secretly divulge some warning to them. Their squires followed them on their heels. Whenever he returned from his errands, the king demanded news on Emrys. He wasn’t asking, and he wasn’t dropping the name anywhere. Any reports that he offered Galorian were fabricated denials of Camelot’s servants having never heard of Emrys. The king looked like he was about to give up, but took it out on Merlin all the more.

And that morning he had woken up in the middle of a dream of Arthur holding him. Arthur’s arms steadying him and his lips against his ear, his breath warm against his neck. And he had awoken with the realization that it had actually happened. It wasn’t a dream. The very memory gave him strength throughout the morning to undergo anything Galorian did to him, and suffer through it. Because he had that at least. Even if he knew that the context was so different from what his dream had turned it into, Arthur had promised to get him out of there somehow. And that mattered more to him than any pride or pain or suffocating abuse.

He had not seen Arthur, who spent most of his time outside in the tent with Darren. It infuriated Merlin that Darren wasn’t slipping up. That he wasn’t dropping any armor or making life generally difficult for Arthur. Darren was doing, by all accounts, a fantastic job. And he was still a kid! It didn’t bother Merlin that he was serving Arthur well, but that it made his own contribution so painfully redundant. In any other situation, George would have attended the prince and Merlin would have been certain that Arthur would have sought him out. As it was, they had not spoken since the previous night outside Uther’s rooms, at the foot of the stairs.

Recalling the moment that Arthur had hugged him stilled his nerves. He clung on to it with his very soul. Tomorrow would be the last day of the tournament, the finals. Surely, that would mean King Galorian would make his way back to his seat in the North the morning after. He would leave none the wiser about Emrys or any active sorcerer in the citadel.

Merlin was convinced that King Uther had to know about the court sorcerer by now. This was probably a good thing, as it would increase wariness in public. Camelot’s servants would be instructed to keep an eye out—even more reason for Merlin not to ask around actively and instead contrive fake reports. It was sustainable even up to leveling to Holden or to the King himself if it came that far. If he needed to tell Uther that he made fake reports, since no inquiries toward the use of magic should be actively supported, he might even make it out with a mere afternoon or two in the stocks for lying to a nobleman.

Someone knew though. Among the three kitchen maids, the most nervous one of the three, with her short brown hair. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly who ought to receive the parcel she’d brought. Not one glance had even been directed at Prince Arthur. And what did she mean with ‘hide it from the king?’ He had so many questions! Perhaps this was the hour of truth the Lady of the Lake had spoken of. There was no way in the world he could be excused to undertake such a journey now. He had to sit this out for another day and he could do so, for Arthur.

If he could survive another night.

His body hurt, but then it had hurt before. He was bruised in more places than he could count and by now he could neither sit, nor lie down on his back, stomach, or his sides without feeling like his body was made out of patches of fire. Nearly every place was sore and there was every promise of more to come.

And it was getting worse. Merlin still had not come up with any information about Emrys. His biggest mistake had been asking King Galorian to find information at Gaius’s workshop. The man had a vast knowledge about sorcery, but the King absolutely did not want Gaius involved, likely for fear that he would speak to Uther about the magical inquiries. Despite the warnings, Merlin decided to do exactly that.

He exited the podium directly after the last battle was done and hurried among the scurry of servants back indoors. He did not mind the call for King Galorian’s cloak to be put back around his shoulders and he ignored George stepping up to do it for him. He would deal with that later.

Once inside, he hurried along the corridors with his empty pitcher until he burst into Gaius’s room without knocking. To his great relief, his master was right there pulverizing some herbs with an old stone pestle and mortar. Despite himself, he took a deep breath as all his emotions came crashing down and when Gaius looked up at who had just entered, he nearly dropped the stone tools from the table and onto his foot. Nearly—if Merlin had not guided them back onto the table with the merest wink.

“Merlin, what on earth—?”

“Gaius, you have to help me.” Merlin got away from the door and put the empty pitcher aside. He pulled a wooden beam over the door frame to lock it against anyone else intruding right this minute.

“You can’t just waltz in here and… there are eyes and ears open everywhere. Word is—"

“I know, Gaius. Please,” he begged his master not to turn his small spell into a big thing for now. To his relief, Gaius noticed his distress and pointed at a bench for Merlin to sit on. Merlin stood, uncertain about the pain it would bring him to sit down.

“Very well, what’s on your mind?”

“I’m not allowed to speak to you. I have only a few minutes. Gaius, King Galorian’s patience is ending. He wants Emrys by tomorrow.”

“Oh this is bad news… How exactly did he come by that name?”

“I don’t know. I believe he may have had a sorcerer serve him before, I think he’s looking for a replacement.” His voice quivered and he continued, “If he is not satisfied with the results I bring—"

“Yes, Merlin. I fear I understand the sort of man he is.”

“You don’t understand. He has ordered me to stay in his room tonight. I won’t be allowed to leave. I cannot disobey.”

Gaius sat down, his hand absentmindedly reaching towards a pouch in his sleeve. “You have been put in a very unfortunate position. However, it seems that your tests are not over yet.” As he said this, he handed Merlin a parcel wrapped in a dark blue embroidered cloth he had kept in his sleeve. “Gwen came to see me earlier. I have no idea how she got this, but she wanted me to look at it. No note or anything.”

Merlin did not need to open the parcel to know what it contained. He recognized the cloth it came in. The braid. He unfolded it to see the dark red hair. He picked it up to study it and the memory of someone seemingly knowing who he was frightened him once more.

Merlin dropped the parcel suddenly. “I can’t take this.”

“What do you mean?”

“One of King Galorian’s servants already tried to give this to me last night, in the corridors,” he paused there because he could not mention Arthur’s presence. This was not the right time to discuss that with Gaius. Merlin struggled to find the right words.

“I could find nothing malicious about it. Do you believe it to be an evil sort of artefact?”

Merlin looked at the braid and considered. He reached down and picked it up again, cradling the item in his hands. “No,” his voice was broken and he steadied it. “No, it doesn’t appear to be intended for that. But Gaius, she gave it to me. You should have seen her, she was so frightened.”

“King Galorian is a frightening king. It might be nothing, Merlin, other than the fact that she knows you serve him.”

“Perhaps,” Merlin conceded though he inwardly thought the opposite, and his insides swam with turmoil. Gaius stood up and patted down Merlin’s shoulders as if there was nothing to worry about. Merlin bit down a wince and instead nodded at Gaius. “I’ll keep it hidden.”

“This is best, my boy. I need to attend the council meeting. Today’s tournament needs to be reviewed, then there’s Holden’s release, and there are political matters to be discussed. I assume you will be required to serve drinks while we are there. Best hurry along now.”

Merlin nodded and folded up the blue cloth, stuffing the braid under his shirt and tucking it under the belt which held his shirt somewhat tied to his hips. He cast a small spell to keep it hidden, while Gaius ushered him along to the door.

He just remembered to pick up the pitcher in time before running back to the corridors. He passed many servants along the corridors and avoided eye contact with any of them, whichever king they served. He missed some sharp looks in his directions and multiple pairs of nervous eyes from the kitchens as he climbed the stairs towards King Galorian’s quarters in order to help him dress for the council meeting.

He was late, he knew. He had not provided the king with his cloak on the way back. And now, with the empty pitcher which he placed on a table in the corridor, he knew that he would be punished for it. But Gaius knew something now. It was all he had. Perhaps Gaius would inform the king or even Arthur about Galorian’s unending quest for a sorcerer. It was wrought with danger for Gaius to even push the subject, but perhaps there would be a moment, if Merlin could stall Galorian to the meeting. Which he effectively already had.

He took a deep breath and relaxed his face to show, hopefully, that he would be easily submissive and yet unmoved by his abuse, before knocking on the door to the king’s chamber. It took a few moments of something being thrown shut before the King told him to enter. Merlin pushed forward and walked in without pausing at the door. He wanted to say something but the words were stuck in his mouth and would not come out.

King Galorian was standing next to the large chest Merlin had nearly broken his back over bringing up the many staircases. He noticed how the king relaxed when he saw it was only his manservant and he broke out a mean smile.

“You left me at the podium today. Where did you rush off to?”

“I had to tell the kitchens to warm up more wine, sire,” he lied quickly. The king loved his wine mulled and spiced and he certainly had been carrying a pitcher around.

“That’s too bad, that’s not what I heard,” the king said, approaching Merlin. He held out his hand as if he was giving Merlin a second chance to adjust his story. Merlin opened his mouth to answer but he had no time as Galorian cuffed him along the side of his face. The red swelling that nestled on his cheekbone would now be joined by a blue and yellow bruise to match.

“Now you will dress me for the meeting. I don’t want to be later than I already am. You can be assured I will speak to Uther about this.”

 _About what_? Merlin wondered with a sick feeling.

As if there was nothing wrong in the world, Galorian held out his arms and Merlin held a tongue against his swelling upper lip as he quietly undid the buttons of the man’s brown leather, finely decorated overcoat and shrugged it off his black shirt. He then brought his burgundy sleeveless doublet over and strapped the golden belt tightly over his waist. “Today I want to wear my sigil. It’s at the bottom of the chest. Fetch it for me.”

Merlin turned away from the king, glad to be out of the man’s suffocating aura momentarily to open the chest. King Uther wore a similar chain to these meetings and it made sense to Merlin that King Galorian wanted to be equally dressed for these matters of importance. Merlin knew it would be an affair of public speaking more than a strategic meeting as he was tasked with serving wine throughout the event. Most of the real strategizing went on without anyone present but those of Uther’s personal inner circle.

Merlin carefully lifted various items of clothing and kept them folded as best he could—refolding one or two of them until he found the item in question. He would not risk more beatings. The golden chain was lying on the bottom of the chest and Merlin assumed it must have been the very same item which had caused another few bruises earlier on when he dropped it. He studied it for a moment before reaching out to lift the chain.

And dropped it instantly.

A raw sort of magic had lashed out against his hand and there was a thin line of blood across the last digit of his middle finger. He looked at it curiously when Galorian moved in behind him.

“Are you _still_ unable to perform the simplest of tasks, boy? How is it that I get appointed with the most useless person in the entire castle? You are a joke! You—” Galorian stopped and Merlin quickly hid his hand. He was still too stunned at the magic imbued in the item before him to notice Galorian’s change of demeanor.

The king leaned over him dangerously as Merlin was still kneeling in front of the chest. A strong hand grabbed the back of his neck, keeping him in place. “You know, I should talk to King Uther about you.” Merlin did not respond. “You’re a conniving little cheat. You’ve disobeyed me more than once and I would not be surprised if you were a thief too.”

Anticipating what was coming, Merlin closed his eyes and braced himself. He waited for the king’s fist to connect to his ribs or the boot to kick him in his shins as had happened before. But it did not come. He would not retort either way, or answer the man as it only served to aggravate him further and fuel his allegations.

When the king’s free hand reached down it was not the connection Merlin had anticipated. Instead his pockets were searched, first on the left side of his jacket, then his right. “I know you were not at the kitchens. I know _exactly_ where you went.” Both pockets were empty.

The braid, Merlin thought, was still safely tucked inside his vest. He hadn’t had time to place it anywhere else. His mind raced with ideas on how to hide it, including placing it in the very chest that kept the man’s clothes and leaving it there until he could get to it. But he did not have time to move or to think. Anything he would do now, would be an admission of guilt he did not possess. Even doing nothing had its own risks. So he held on to the edge of the chest and felt the king’s hand dig into the pocket of his breeches, first on one side, then on the other.

The man’s hand lingered there and there was a long stuttering breath coming from King Galorian’s mouth, right behind Merlin’s ear. His body buckled under both alarm and shock as Galorian’s hand dug further down Merlin’s pocket towards his groin. He gripped the edge of the chest and bit his lip not to fight back—it would only result in more pain—as the groping hand hit home.

The king’s other hand was still firmly on his neck, keeping his head down and ensuring he would not move anywhere quickly. Galorian continued, “You are weak, you have weakness in you. You know I have more than one way to ruin you.” The utter disgust raking through Merlin’s body vastly overshadowed the pain he had felt during the past few days. He slowly turned his head to look the man directly in the eye. He had to be careful not to use any magic, even by accident—it would give away too much—but he showed then and there that he was not weak enough to look at him through this ordeal. Just that.

It took King Galorian somewhat aback and Merlin felt the hand digging out of his pocket quickly. The king licked his lips and considered whether another beating was due. Merlin turned back around to the chest and braced for the pain the chain would give him, picked it up and suffered through it gladly. He brought it in front of Galorian to place it over his head. The metal stung his flesh but now that he was prepared for it, it didn’t bite at him like before. With a pleased tug at the corner of his lip, Galorian lowered his head and the heavy chain settled around his shoulders. In the middle hung a gilded sigil showing Galorian’s family crest with the bird of prey.

“Now you will serve me my wine at the council meeting. And tonight, we will resume our discussion. Get out of my sight.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said with his normal voice. It took all his energy to answer him so. His frequent practices of his facial expressions and his voice served him now to get out of the room as quickly as he could.

Whatever discussion would follow, Merlin had to get out of it somehow. Every possible alarm bell rung in his mind. His stomach turned over and left him nauseous. He picked up the empty pitcher and ran through the hallway, considering several spells which would knock the king out cold or at least get him to sleep for an entire day. Except he had never practiced these spells and he could not assume to know when King Galorian would wake up or in what state he would be when he did.

Before he reached the kitchens, he turned and entered an empty storage room with several cases of strong drinks, fruits, and cheeses, and he promptly threw up in the corner. The stress coursed through his veins and whatever he had managed to eat that day came out in heaves of disgust until the corners of his eyes filled with tears from the horrid sour taste in his mouth and nose. He wiped himself clean with a random piece of cloth lying there and hurried out of the room. He felt sorry for whoever would find his mess but it was too dangerous to be late now.

When he entered the kitchen he ignored the bustle of people and quickly washed his mouth in the basin, wincing at the glowing pain on the side of his cheek and his swollen upper lip from the earlier cuff. He looked at the small cut on his index finger, the dull sting was brought back to life by the cool water, before going towards the pot of mulled wine.

He bumped into one of the jittery kitchen maids, this one had long, dark curly hair and warm brown eyes. She gaped at him in surprise and started to ask him a question.

“Did you… have you…?”

“Get out of my way!” he shouted and pushed past her. He couldn’t even begin to think about what the girl was about to ask him. Yes, he had the braid. No, he did not know what to do with it. No, of course he wasn’t Emrys nor did he have anything to do with magic. Yes, he was being treated appallingly, as she well knew.

He did not care to look back at that moment. There was too much work in the kitchens for anyone to pause even for more than a few seconds so his shout had been entirely fitting for the situation. After the council meeting there would be a small feast, which would only be surpassed by tomorrow’s grand feast when the tournament had a winner. Even for this meal, there was scarcely room for two breaths of pause.

Merlin poured more warmed wine to serve. It was past the servant’s call when he rushed up the staircases, spilling some of the wine on the stones below—it could not be helped—until he finally arrived at the council meeting.

It was well underway and Merlin tried to sneak in unobtrusively, biting back his heavy breath by holding it in until he heard his accelerated heartbeat rush through his ears. He bowed low and served King Galorian, ignoring direct eye contact with anyone, lest it should result in another punishment. George and two serving maids also stood at the back of the room and regarded his entry with interest.

The council of this afternoon was well-attended by everyone of importance. King Uther had made room at the head of the table for King Galorian’s seat to be placed beside his. They were flanked by Gaius, Geoffrey, Sir Leon, and Sir Kay on the left side and by Prince Arthur, Sir Carsen, and Darren on the other.

Darren.

He needed only to see the parchment laid out before the boy to feel a deep jealousy rise from within. Not only was Darren in place to serve Arthur, he was now in Holden’s seat and taking the council’s notes. This was a precarious position which was left to the head of household for a reason. Merlin did not particularly like Holden, but he knew the man held a certain amount of pride over being in charge of the minutes. Meticulous execution of the orders was required and being allowed just to document these—could this kid even write?—was of the highest compliments to be received. Merlin knew right then that Darren would be asked to stay on as Arthur’s squire and Merlin’s duties would be reduced. He feared it to the core of his being.

King Uther spoke of the tournament rounds and marked out the winners of each round for Darren to write down. Both sides had done remarkably well, though overall Camelot’s knights stood stronger. It was only this fact which allowed Uther to speak calmly and without any reserve. The man’s pride ran deep for the noble sons in his care. Arthur had won four battles and did not show any worse for wear. He looked almost cheerful. Merlin pointedly ignored him as he stood behind King Galorian, waiting for the cup to empty.

The boy scribbled down the notes as properly as he could, his pen hand unsteady and trying to add the proper curls to each capital as he had been taught. He placed accents in the wrong place, Merlin noted from across the room, and was inconsistent with the mark down of the victories.

The topic shifted, predictably to the release of Uther’s manservant. King Galorian leaned forward with both elbows on the table and spoke up.

“In light of the interrogations which followed the earlier arrest made, our court is satisfied that Holden has suffered penitence for his actions. However, we will require additional punishments should his actions be pursued.”

“Galorian,” Uther warned him. He was the only man who could talk to him without using his title, as they were of an equal station. “Holden has been in my personal servitude for many years and is not known to break any rules. He will have learned from this. I do not find it necessary to add to these allegations of ‘in case.’ Our laws are firm.”

“Your laws do not protect against the needless inquiry of guests under your own roof.”

“These inquiries have been proven necessary in the past, you understand. No insult to your good self.”

“I fear that damage is already done.” King Galorian shifted in his seat, looking sideways at King Uther. Darren looked at his uncle with large eyes, wondering what he should write. Merlin pressed his lips together in quiet gratification of the boy’s unease. It was however short-lived.

“And the punishment has been served,” King Uther said unwavering, sitting up straight to mark the beginning of a new topic. As he drew in breath, the king beside him leaned over further towards King Uther in a menacing gesture.

“Oh, I hardly think so. Another insult bothers me to this very moment.”

Both Uther and Arthur studied him carefully. The room was silent except for Sir Carsen putting down his goblet of wine onto the dark wooden table.

“This poor excuse for a manservant you have appointed me. I have heard how Prince Arthur complained of him. I do not know how you pick them, Uther, but he is literally the worst servant I have ever had.”

Merlin stood in the shadows and refrained from moving, even from breathing at that moment. The king would make his move now to bring Darren in. What hurt even more was that Arthur’s frequent jests—they were, weren’t they?—would be turned against him now. The only one who looked at him now was Arthur, out of the corner of his eyes. He seemed uneasy about something but wasn’t speaking up for Merlin. He ignored the prince’s eye contact. He bit back his disgust at King Galorian’s ministrations and it was impossible to meet Arthur’s unashamed, _innocent_ blue eyes in the face of his own battered, molested, and repugnant state.

“We are aware,” Uther began, in a calm tone. It was hard to move a man with this power especially when it came to things that were beneath him. “That some of the younger servants are in need of training.”

“That would be exactly my point. He broke a direct order with me not to speak with his master, and went to see him anyway despite not having any time for such nonsense. I should hardly be surprised if this was part of the games being played,” Galorian answered for him. The minor creak of Uther’s glove indicated that he had not expected that answer.

Merlin was still holding his breath and he saw that more people glanced in his direction now, Sir Leon and Geoffrey included. But Gaius eyed Uther steadily and did not shift his vision in the direction of his student. It took all of Merlin’s restraints to slowly start breathing again and listen to the King’s response.

“Speak your mind,” Uther said after the silence had stretched on. Arthur was still studying Merlin, who was hidden in the shadows at the back of the room.

“I am being treated appallingly and if your servants run off to break the rules each chance they get, I fear for your great house a vast deal. So much even that I am willing to undergo the necessary steps to take him to the North and _break him in_.”

Three things happened at once. Darren looked away from his uncle and glanced at the door; evidently he wished he was not there. Gaius curtly said “Sire!” in the most animated of his various calm voices Merlin had yet heard. And Arthur… Arthur stood up and leaned over the table following Gaius’s outburst with a low spoken, “That will not be necessary.”

“Take your seat, Arthur,” Uther said dismissively and the prince did. The man cared nothing for him, Merlin knew. The promise of serving the prince after saving his life feebly forgotten, it seemed.

King Galorian took his shot. “Prince Arthur is well served by Darren. It would be our greatest honor to have him serve as your ward and he will work hard. Will you not?” He looked at his nephew who nodded thin-lipped and glanced at Arthur for help. “Meanwhile, this boy has something up his sleeve, he is guilty of something and it has become evident to me that I need to work it out of him. Don’t worry, Uther, this is something I’m quite good at. You will be happy to have him out of your hands.”

“I already have a ward,” King Uther said casually as if the matter did not touch him at all.

Merlin doubted it moved him at all. He still stood in the back though King Galorian’s cup had now gone empty. He didn’t know whether to move forward or not, to pour. He bit his lower lip and decided to refill the cup. The whole room looked at him, at the bruise across his cheek and at his fat lip. The King curled his fingers around the cup greedily as Merlin poured it, and stroked his fingers up and down. It made Merlin sick to look at.

To his own disbelief he accidentally looked in Arthur’s direction and their eyes locked for a moment. Merlin quickly broke away from that intense gaze to look down again. He stepped back, disappearing as if he were a piece of furniture. He had served for several years, and he had sometimes complained of being part of the décor and never had he wished it were more true.

But Arthur had looked at him, really _looked_ , and had seen not just the layered bruises on his cheek but what was going on. He knew because the look he got from Arthur then was nothing short of determination. It filled him with the smallest hope that something might be done against Galorian’s request. Uther’s pause was stretching and it made the room uncomfortable.

“Yes, the lovely Lady Morgana. How she would benefit from a journey, don’t you think? She would be warmly welcomed for a stay of… a year?” Galorian played with his goblet. “A season?” he offered when Uther exchanged glances with him.

“Under no circumstances is Morgana traveling with you. She is at home in Camelot and she is not up for trade with Darren. I will however consider your other offers and let you know by the end of the tournament. Now, any further business shall be delayed until the morrow. You are all invited to join me in the throne room for tonight’s festivities.”

Uther had effectively drowned out any further complaint Galorian might have made regarding Morgana’s traveling with them. The guards stationed inside the council chambers opened the heavy wooden door and let the light in from the corridors. “Darren, pick up your notes and join Arthur to the dungeons to release Holden. He has half an hour to clean up before we will await him at the feast.”

Merlin stood quiet at the back of the room as the noblemen left and thought about Galorian’s request for Morgana with a deep loathing. He would never take her out of Camelot, he would not enslave her as he intended to do to Merlin. If he had any idea about her magic, she would never see Camelot again and Merlin would not let that happen. As Arthur walked out of the room, Merlin followed him with his eyes. He needed to talk to him now more than ever. It was as if Arthur knew the same thing because right at that moment he looked back at Merlin. For a brief moment Merlin knew the grief was visible on his face. He needed more than he could ask from him. The glances they shared were his lifeline. A moment later the prince was gone from his sight, following Darren.

The only people left in the chamber were Gaius and King Uther. Neither of them had gotten up yet. Merlin, too, did not move yet, despite George and the two serving maids already having left in order to quickly eat before the feast started.

“Sire,” Gaius began calmly.

“I know, Gaius. I’m thinking it over but I have not made any decisions yet,” King Uther said.

“I’m afraid that it has come to my attention, from very reliable sources, that King Galorian has indeed been making inquiries after magic. This has nothing to do with Holden, mind you. I fear it might not be as clear cut as today’s meeting sounded.”

“Tomorrow is the last day of the tournament and I want everyone to be in the best shape. I will not risk offense now. I will have extra guards stationed in the corridors outside Galorian’s quarters to ensure nobody goes in or out.”

“What about Merlin?” Gaius asked pointedly.

“What about him?”

“The King has required the boy to sleep inside his room. Is this not highly unusual?”

“It is not, if there is a reason such as assistance or council.”

“Of course, sire. But has King Galorian not made it clear that he expects neither of those from Merlin? Besides, it is not a trusted relationship like you have with Holden,” the physician said, implying many things, including the spontaneous inquisitions in town that had him thrown in the dungeon to begin with. “I’d say there is none at all.”

“And what would you have me do, go against King Galorian’s orders to send a servant back to his room?”

“Let me at least work on his bruises, sire. Even if Merlin made a mistake, or even if he made several, it would be in everyone’s interest that he is in a fit state to serve the king tomorrow and not add more stress to the current households combined. The day is too important for it.”

“Yes, make it so. I know you care for the boy, Gaius,” the King said dismissively. From his place in the back corner of the room, Merlin felt tears welling up with gratitude towards his master. He held his lips stiff together to not choke when the king suddenly spoke.

“Merlin.”

Merlin rushed forward. He couldn’t remember the last time Uther had spoken his name aloud, it was probably months, perhaps even longer than a year. He stood beside Gaius, it was the only sensible place for him to stand, pitcher carefully in hand. He blinked back the tears and gulped once but stood otherwise neutrally, gazing somewhere over Uther’s head, afraid to meet the man’s eyes.

“What do you say to King Galorian’s proposition?”

He took a moment to think of that. A moment King Uther clearly did not have. Merlin’s voice protested being used the first moment that he spoke, coming out almost in a huff. “Galorian is not half the man Prince Arthur is. My loyalty is to Arthur and to you alone, sire.”

“You do not want to go with him?” Uther drawled out.

“I do not,” Merlin answered curtly.

“Do you know… Is he conspiring to use magic?”

Merlin felt as if he now found the real reason he was questioned. The other thing didn’t matter to Uther at all. “He is, sire. He has tasked me to ask around for sorcerers.”

“And what did you do?”

Merlin looked at Gaius for a moment, who nodded at him. He took a deep breath and spoke. “I told him there are none in Camelot, and that you have it under control. I have not made any inquiries of this nature, to anyone. It would have broken with Camelot’s law and it would have made Holden’s situation worse if I was arrested too. This would have resulted in a breach of trust between the households.”

King Uther considered him for a long moment. “What will he do if he finds any sorcerer in Camelot?”

Merlin stared blankly. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said—"

“Alright. Do not mention any of this to anyone. Run off now.”

“Yes, sire.”

“And you will sleep in your own room tonight.”

“Thank you, sire,” he added, but his gaze was at Gaius, thanking him too.

As he left with the cooling pitcher of wine in his hand he heard Gaius turn the topic to Morgana. He did not hear the full sentence because he was out of the back door and in the small corridors running back to the kitchen.

Gaius had just saved his life.

  
***


	2. Endurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Arthur is concerned with the ongoing developments regarding King Galorian's focus on magic users. Knowing what he does, his perspective needs to change. For the first time his eyes are opened.

  
**\-----20 Arthur-----**

Arthur had dutifully rounded up the farce that was Holden’s release and restored his title as Camelot’s steward in the shortest time possible. He had given Holden a mock warning that if he should ever try to disobey his father again, it would be the stocks or the noose for him. Darren brought the paperwork to the head guard of the dungeons to sign Holden out. Sir Leon had attended him down.

Suddenly Leon took him by the arm and dragged him to the side. “My lord,” he said softly so that neither Holden or Darren would overhear. “I would never doubt your or your father’s word. I have news of King Galorian’s servants. I overheard the one you mentioned.”

“Not now, Leon,” Arthur urged him. There was only one thing on his mind after sorting his father’s request to free Holden. Merlin.

Spending several days without his manservant shouldn’t have taken him so off kilter. It should not have made him wary of the happenings around him. Darren kept his mind well distracted, and he did not want for anything thanks to George’s diligence. But each moment spared between his duties, his mind circled back around to _Merlin_ of all people. After what he had witnessed in their battle against the Birugderc, after learning about everything Merlin had hidden, and after seeing the state he was in at the council meeting, there was no way he was not going to find out everything that was going on.

He moved away from Leon, shaking his head. “There’s something you should know.” Leon’s hand urged him in place and Arthur paused. Leon was one of the most generous among his father’s knights and he knew he owed Sir Leon more than he was allowing.

Arthur sighed and furrowed his brow. “Make it quick.” He relaxed in Leon’s grip and kept half an eye out for Darren’s progress.

“The King did have a court sorcerer, but it’s not as you said. He was not for using magic. It seems that the king kept him in a cell for the past seven years, using iron shackles on him so he couldn’t do any magic.” Leon nodded to him confidently. “I do not think he intends to attack Camelot at all. In fact, his opinion of magic seems to be the same as ours. It must be destroyed.”

Arthur looked directly at Leon, clenching his jaw. Leon took this as a good sign and when Arthur nodded, he continued.

“It seems we have nothing to worry about. Except… He’s got a violent temper,” Leon said, shrugging lightly. Darren was thanking the guard and they were stacking up the pile of papers. “You’ve seen Merlin, surely.”

“I don’t have time for this, Leon,” Arthur said loudly enough for Darren to catch. But he gave Leon a small nod and turned around to face the boy who had been in his wake the entire time, preventing him from doing anything to potentially obstruct King Galorian’s subtle forces.

“Prince Arthur,” Darren said, “do we need to escort Holden to the feast?”

“No.” He shook his head at Holden. “He is free and already knows his duties to my father.” The man turned to leave with a sour expression that matched his father’s well enough to assume they practiced it together in the mirror when no one was looking.

“But how will we know he won’t repeat what he did?”

Arthur laughed and turned him around to head to the door through which Holden had quickly exited. “That was a joke, right?” he asked.  When Darren did not smile at him he added, “He gave us his _word_. Perhaps your uncle is not accustomed to the idea that someone’s word is good enough, but here in Camelot we rely very heavily on our word.

“When you become a knight, for example, you are inaugurated by the king through his words. Only a king can do so. The words alone, and the ceremony of knighthood that follows, are all that’s required. Sir Leon, perhaps you can show Darren the book of knights, where such appointments are listed.” He added, “it’s very beautifully made and it has lots of pictures,” when the boy looked at him confused. Leon took the hint and all but dragged Darren from Arthur’s tail.

Once freed from their ears, Arthur rushed through the corridors. His mind was racing. Was Darren set in place specifically to prevent him to actively stop Galorian’s moves? What was the king after? It was obvious he was searching for something or someone magical, but it was not so obvious at all whether or not he had found it.

Merlin was in a terrible shape, that much he had seen. Enough to avoid eye contact—this was new. Merlin was always looking directly at Arthur when some urgent information wasn’t setting in or when he was somehow missing the point entirely. In fact, Merlin had been so obstinate in conveying subtext to Arthur that he’d actually picked up on a thing or two on the way. Unfortunately honing his senses had led to the very discovery that Arthur was now afraid would be made public.

_It must be destroyed._

Sir Leon had no idea at all. Arthur realized that for the first time he had been insincere with the most loyal of Camelot’s knights. There was no consequence to it now. At least none that he could imagine. Unless Merlin’s secret was discovered. He would be destroyed without pardon; his father’s wrath would be severe. And Arthur would have to lie through his teeth that he hadn’t known.

He nearly bulldozed through a large silver tray with food being held up by two unnerved servants who had been shouting at him to please wait while a large pair of drums were being hoisted through the same corridor towards the feast for that evening’s entertainment.

He shot a death glare at the nearest undeserving kitchen boy and turned into the servants’ corridors, continuing his search despite the strange glances from the working staff.

He knew that he shouldn’t be here. Not after Holden’s recent release. Not after his father’s warnings. Not when he was supposed to look after Darren. He was _probably_ going to be in trouble for this and yet he could not help himself. Something drove him onwards, something that he could not point his finger on.

And then he saw Merlin. He was shuffling his way out of the kitchen holding a full pitcher as if it was a newborn child that was wrapped in a cloth to keep warm. His eyes were averted down to avoid any oncoming, running, or otherwise stressed out household member. Arthur saw him and his stomach turned into knots.

Merlin’s left eye had a dark stripe glowering over his cheek and a variety of blue and red hues swelling around his eye, up to his eyebrow which had a small scab from contact with something sharp. _Something like a ring_. Arthur unclenched his fists which he hadn’t realized he’d formed. His whole being revolted against it. This was _Mer_ lin. He had an obligation towards Merlin as much as Merlin had served and protected him. He couldn’t find the words to express what he felt.

Merlin was walking towards Arthur in somewhat of a straight line as he hugged the wall to his left, hiding his face as much as he could, though it was ridiculous. He was the servant to a king and it was impossible to be overlooked.

Arthur stood in his path and did not budge. Merlin stopped and waited for Arthur to move. It took several seconds for Merlin’s glazed over eyes to recognize the shoes he was staring at. His eyes drifted upwards to familiar breeches, a red familiar shirt, covered by an often scrubbed and polished dark red leather vest.

Their eyes locked and Arthur stared at Merlin hard. Merlin stared back with an expression he couldn’t decipher. He didn’t like it when Merlin did that. He couldn’t learn anything from him when  his face was set to be extremely neutral. Arthur still wasn’t budging and Merlin held the pitcher closer to his chest, as if indicating that his precious parcel was all he cared about right now. Nothing made sense to Arthur.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Merlin said at last with an uneven voice.

“And yet here I am,” he said as if it wasn’t already completely obvious. Merlin huffed and turned his face towards the wall, as if he could hide whatever Arthur had already mentally imprinted on so that he might one day return the favor. “What’s going on, Merlin?”

“Nothing. I made some mistakes.” Merlin wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore, but for a fleeting moment Arthur saw shame cross his features before being hidden by impassiveness once more.

“Do you hear yourself?” He put his hands on his hips, as if to make clear that Merlin was not leaving this place until he gave him some real answers. Merlin was ignoring him again, but chewing his lip as if he did want to talk. Meanwhile other servants bustled past. There was nothing they could discuss of consequence without being overheard. “I’m going to have a firm word—”

“No!” Merlin lifted his chin and stood upright. He eyed Arthur defiantly, his blue eyes radiant and clear. It took Arthur aback. “That would make everything worse.”

“How would it make anything worse?”

“Because you’re not involved,” Merlin said simply. A small smile started playing on Merlin’s lips. “You’re not the only one who knows how to take a beating.”

He wanted to scream sense into Merlin. He reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, watching Merlin hold his lips stiffly together not to betray his wince. “I will do what I can, I promise.” Merlin’s eyes softened visibly.

“I must go.”

Arthur stepped aside to let him pass with the warm wine and resume his duties. He had a feeling that more was left unsaid than resolved. He frowned and watched after Merlin. If the King had his way, he would take Merlin with him to Foltaig. His heart stuttered and beat angrily against his ribs at the very thought. And for the life of him he didn’t understand _why_.

Surely he was missing something, some vital clue. It was slowly killing him that he didn’t see the full picture. Normally Merlin would be the one to help him piece the puzzles together but this time Merlin was part of the puzzle.

He sighed and turned back the way he came to follow the normal route to the banquet hall for what was going to be another long and tense feast. He all but barged into the hall and felt his chest constrict when he concluded that everyone was in place except for him. His father sat on the throne and beside him King Galorian and Lady Morgana were overlooking the feast. They were all where they ought to be. Even Merlin.

Except for Merlin not really being where he ought to be, which was behind Arthur’s chair.

He paused to talk to some of the knights who had lost their rounds today. One of the young knights could potentially lose his hearing on one side. Another knight had a nurse fretting over his arm with a linen cloth as he was trying to ignore the pain he was in, joking with his friends. He spoke to Sir Caridoc and Sir Kay for some minutes, encouraging them to do their best the next day.

He continued his way up the table, performing his princely duties. He passed Gaius with a hard stare, and was silently pleased to find that Gaius was visibly as sullen as he was.

He greeted Lady Morgana, complimenting her beauty, and remarking that she looked well.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” she said with her most charming smile.

“You will tomorrow, after I win.” He gave her his most confident smile. There was no way she could unsettle him today, not after all he had seen and heard.

“Who knows, I might compliment you on your defeat.” She leaned back in her chair, her green eyes staring at him hard. Somehow she always made life hard on him, but she was almost never wrong.

“Morgana, you know that I will win this tournament.” He put a hand to his side, challenging her.

“I wasn’t talking about the tournament.” She stared at him sharply, gesturing to the space behind his chair. He knew exactly what she was referring to. He licked his lips and lowered his hand from his side. She had the audacity to look triumphant over him for it. “I hope _Darren_ is treating you well.”

“Yes, he’s the perfect squire…” he let his voice trail off and lifted his eyebrows, indicating a quiet there’s-a-‘but’-in-there.

Morgana looked at him hard and after a minute relinquished with a sigh. “Excellent,” she responded self-satisfactory. “Glad to see you still have your head on your shoulders.” She held up her hand for him to kiss.

He leaned over and did so, at the same time getting a look from King Galorian who was sitting beside her.

“Sire,” he said, turning to the king, “I hope you are well pleased with the progress of your knights. They have excellent skills and great honorability.”

“Most certainly. Only rarely have they come across such a powerful match as right here in Camelot. You have a great number of very good men.”

Arthur smiled through clenched teeth at him and nodded. The smile did not meet his eyes. As he passed in front of his father he bowed his head, said nothing, and took his seat.

His father made small talk with him about the tournament proceedings and about Darren’s teachings. Arthur responded with the fewest words possible and pushed his plate away. Most of his father’s words passed him by. Most of the evening’s entertainment passed him by too.

When the musicians entered the room and started to entertain the various guests, Arthur excused himself. King Uther complained that he had not even touched his food yet, but Arthur made some excuse that he had to relieve himself.

He left the hall through one of the side doors and looked around. The corridors were mostly empty and a crisp breeze cooled his cheeks after the relative warmth of the crowded hall. Only a few servants were walking back and forth with refreshments. He strolled up and down the corridors, feeling a faint gnaw in his gut from having skipped his food. He didn’t know what he was looking for, only that he wouldn’t find it where everyone else was right now.

 _Retrace your steps to see the truth._ The words reverberated through his mind and for a moment he couldn’t recall who had said them at first. Then he knew. He had heard Morgana say so. Whatever her dream had been about, it seemed to help him structure his thoughts.

He descended into the catacombs and found the string of guards who were supposed to guard the tournament prize winnings with their life playing dice games. They assured him everything was still locked in place and one of his Pendragon glares got them to open the metal gate and show him. Everything looked just fine. He warned them that he did not want to catch them playing games a second time and they reluctantly agreed.

When he went back up the stairs he finally found what he didn’t know he had been looking for: the corridor leading up to his father’s tower. The torches guttered in the breeze and cast his shadows on the walls ahead. He turned the corner to stand exactly where he had been with Merlin the night before. He looked around, trying to see if he could find anything lying around. His father’s room would be guarded only by two sentries at this time of the evening and he wasn’t in any hurry to talk to them.

Then he saw he didn’t have to. The serving woman with short brown hair was there, though she came from another direction entirely as if she had anticipated him being there. Or perhaps not him, perhaps Merlin.

“You there,” he called out quickly. “Come here.” He tried to sound calm, he really did, but it came out sounding like a threat. She did not move from her place and was looking back over her shoulder nervously. “I need you to tell me everything.”

Her large hazel eyes pleaded with him and she pressed her lips together. He wasn’t certain if he was going to get a word out of her.

“Everything, from the start. I _need_ to know what’s going on.”

She stepped forward but still she didn’t talk. Her hands were behind her back, steadying herself against the wall. She chewed her lips in thought and shook her head.

“Let me make myself clear,” Arthur tried again. “I do not trust your king. I know something’s up. And I know you need to tell someone.”

“Manath, his name was Manath.” Her voice was no more than a whisper and she was wiping something off her cheek as she spoke.

“Whose name?”

“The king locked him up.”

“The sorcerer?” Arthur remembered Leon’s report.

“It was his hair, he gave it to me when he—” Again she paused and Arthur struggled not to push her too quickly. He tilted his head and looked at her. She took a deep breath and at last the words came spilling. “Manath had been his loyal counselor for several years before Galorian became paranoid. He wanted everything Manath did purely for himself, so he beat him, shackled him in cold iron and… raped him. Not just him, others too. All prisoners.

“For the last five years Manath tried to break free, tried to ask us for help. We were unable to do anything, there were too many obstacles. I only got to his cell once, in the end. He had had a vision and he knew it was the end for him. In his vision he knew another would do the job for him. His braid was the gift, the answer. I needed to get the braid to whoever will do this job.”

“And you thought since Merlin is his personal servant, he would be the one to do it?”

The girl looked down and nodded eventually, then shrugged. “It’s not Merlin. It’s someone else.”

“Then who? You must tell me.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and she stiffened at his touch. He let go and took a step back. “Please.”

“The person who will end Galorian’s dark reign is called Emrys. But I cannot find him. I need help. He needs the braid, it contains something special, something Manath found in his vision.”

“I will see what I can do. Where is Manath now?” What did she mean by dark reign?

She looked up at him and there were tear stains on her cheeks, which he could see from the light of the flames. She exhaled and frowned. “He killed himself at last. He found a way to do so. He died in my arms, in the dungeons.”

“You loved him…” Arthur concluded in a voiceless huff. A cold ripple wound its way down his spine.

“I never had the chance to,” she answered. She bit back a choke and steadied her resolve. Her hands came away from her back, they were in fists. “Will you help me?”

“I cannot kill Galorian.” He shifted uneasily, leaning on one foot, then the other.

“No, I know that. But will you help me find Emrys, the man from his vision?”

“What does he look like?”

“He did not say. All I know is,” she paused nervously as she heard footsteps at the end of the hall. Arthur put a hand to her shoulder to keep her there at least until she was finished. “All I know is that magic is involved. That is what Galorian is after.”

“There must be more, something specific.”

But she wrenched herself free of his grip and started to move. “Do not blame the magic, Prince Arthur. Just this once.” She stepped into the shadows to run away.

“Wait, what is your name?”

But she was gone. Her soft footsteps were quickly lost to the drowning clunks of incoming guards in their heavy gear. Arthur hid behind a wall until they had passed before he turned and went back to rejoin the feast.

Arthur thought about all the things he could say to his father to return Merlin into his personal service, but this would alert King Galorian and it could possibly alert Emrys too. Whoever held the braid would have the cards in hand. He could not very well frisk everyone at the feast to find out who was holding onto it. And if it did turn out that there was someone with the braid in their possession, then they could possibly be an assassin or another sorcerer. Did he really want to have that knowledge? If he did nothing, then perhaps King Galorian would find his death, just as predicted.

But that would mean giving into a magical vision, which was something he found he had trouble with doing. A nagging feeling softened his aversion to it though. The knowledge of what King Galorian did to his prisoners. What the man did to sorcerers. And how Merlin fit into everything. He could not shake the feeling that killing King Galorian would be a terrible thing to do, but also a great relief.

As he stood in front of the door to the banquet hall, he was suddenly uncertain with how to proceed. Whether he should do something to help this vision become real or do nothing because then it _would_ become real. He shook his head. No, the woman had asked him for help and he made a promise. He shook his uncertainty aside and walked into the hall as if nothing was amiss.

He smiled at his father as he sat down and took a piece of bread to his mouth with some of his now-cold chicken. The musical performers were in the middle of a drum-off which highly entertained the crowds.

Arthur realized that the empty plates had not yet been taken from the high table on account of him not having eaten. He glanced quickly behind his throne to Holden and held out a hand to ask the man to come closer. In the two seconds it took for Holden to get there, he sought Merlin out. He was standing as far back to the wall as he possibly could with his head lowered and his eyes hidden. He was still holding that damned wine wrapped in that damned cloth as if he would die if he set it down.

Holden arrived and Arthur smiled at him pleasantly. “Good to have you back. Please tell the staff that they can start cleaning up and bring out the fruits or whatever it is they have prepared. Have George bring my plate up to my room, I’ll finish it later.” He pat Holden on the arm in good humor and got an almost-smile back from the man. That was good enough.

Arthur sat himself straight in his chair again, overlooking the hall and realized that hiding information was harder than it looked. Operating in plain sight for everyone to witness was nearly impossible when what you wanted was the very opposite of what was happening. King Galorian was infallible and any search for magic would only produce more unrest within the citadel. Moreover, it would be the undoing of everything Uther had so carefully put together.

Except his father knew nothing, could know nothing about what was really happening. Still, he had to move against his father’s agenda as well; stay ahead of whatever he wanted to find out. He knew that Uther was still prowling to figure out whether there really was magic involved, and he would not rest until King Galorian and all his following were traveling home. He was now trapped as much as any conspirator against the crown in a web of unknown factors.

Arthur reflected back to the blissful period where he had not known about Merlin. And he dreaded that he might have been seated here today, just as such, and be powerless to understand the consequences of Galorian’s plight and what it meant for him and for Merlin. What it might _still_ mean if he did not take action.

While Arthur watched the musicians and poets perform, clapping loudly and cheering them on, plans started formulating in his head.

  
**\-----21 Merlin-----**

The last part of the day was arriving and he had been notified by Holden that King Galorian had been denied the demand that Merlin would be present in his chambers overnight. His feet dragged up the stairs with exhaustion and uncertainty. The king would be waiting there for him to change him into his night clothes and turn down the bed. It was such a simple task. There was nothing to it. No heavy armor to take off. No bath to draw, and no need to scrub off layers of mud. And yet, it was the world’s biggest problem for him right now.

Merlin tested his left cheek with the tips of his fingers and found that it was still quite swollen. He must have looked quite the spectacle at the feast because none of the servants spoke to him. They treated him as if it was _his fault_ for ending up looking this way. As if King Galorian’s actions were justified. Merlin straightened up, reminding himself that he had known long ago that there was no such thing in this world as justice. There was only ownership by powerful men and the will of those who served them. And his will was as strong as any.

He had dealt with pain before, along with loss and humiliation. There was nothing King Galorian could do to him which would destroy him. He doubted that Galorian was actually going to kill him. Even that would be a step too far for the man to take. In the end, he would have to brace himself and let whatever happened, happen. He would return to Gaius after his work was done and sleep in his own bed. Now if only he could convince himself that nothing was going to happen.

He entered the king’s room and found the man hunched over in his chair, writing something on a small piece of parchment. The fire was low and Merlin turned first to add wood to it, without disturbing Galorian.

When further orders failed to follow, he continued working by replacing candles which had burned out and brushing down the king’s ditched shoes. He closed the large curtain in front of the window to keep the heat in and laid out the night shirt for him to wear. Without the orders to do any of it. His heart thudded in his chest. For some reason the persisting silence was worse than being taunted.

He started turning down the bed, taking off the decorated covers and folding them up to perfection. There were no mistakes to be made. When he glanced at King Galorian, he was still invested in his paperwork. If only it would stay this way—but it would not. It most certainly would not.

The king was shifting out of his seat as soon as the thought crossed Merlin’s mind and he began moving around the room. Merlin reached over to pick up the last of the extra pillows from the bed when Galorian stood beside him. Instinctively, Merlin flinched.

And the king smiled. It was the right reaction. A hand snaked up his back to hold him at his neck. Thick fingers gripped around the back of his head.

“It seems,” King Galorian spoke at last, and just the man’s voice alone turned Merlin’s stomach over and made him feel sick, “that King Uther is convinced that you serving me is just something optional, something temporary.” Galorian turned to look at Merlin, his fingers grappling through Merlin’s hair roughly, as if considering what to do. Merlin still held onto the pillow in front of him stupidly. Galorian’s cruel smile widened because of it.

“But I know something about you. Something that will change Uther’s mind entirely.”

Merlin said nothing. He did not even breathe, he just stood and stared with a vague gaze towards the ground. What could the man possibly have learned about him in the last few hours?

King Galorian breathed in sharply through his nose and exhaled a thick breath stinking of sour wine and foul teeth. Merlin felt a sharp kick against the back of his knees while Galorian pushed his face down. At the same time, Merlin’s right arm was twisted around his back with Galorian’s free hand, holding on to his wrist.

The pillow hit the floor after Merlin’s knees did, and Merlin’s face was pressed against the bed sheets. The hand around his wrist held on tight enough to bruise. Merlin kept his left hand hidden, in case he would dare to cast spells. Except he didn’t. He would have to face what was to come.

“You’ve made everything so easy for me,” Galorian continued. The grip on his wrist relaxed somewhat and the hand in his hair stroked all the way down his back. Merlin did not move, he twisted his head slightly so he could breathe, but he did not even try to move away. Any movement would aggravate the man.

If he had known what Galorian would do next, he would have struggled. If he could have fathomed the outcome or predicted it in any way. If he could have spoken to Gaius or the Great Dragon. If he could, he would have even spoken to Morgana. Anyone to prepare him for Galorian’s next move.

The king’s roaming hand left his back and fumbled in his pocket. Before Merlin knew it, the hand that was being held behind his back was circled by something cold and solid and it was bound _tightly_ around his narrow wrist. He huffed and pulled his hand back. To his surprise, Galorian let him go and stood up.

“You are such an obedient boy. You will not take that off.” Galorian lifted a note of parchment from his same pocket and grinned. “This letter explains it all, but it’s not meant for you. It is meant for King Uther.”

Merlin turned his arm back around himself and felt the heavy slab of metal against his wrist with his free hand. He shuddered away from its malicious touch.

His eyes widened in surprise and a shiver of ice went up his spine, his brain going numb with terror: it was _cold iron_.

His mouth opened to say something, to complain. He didn’t understand. _How_ had he known?

“Yes, that’s right,” Galorian whispered, putting a hand on his head, patting him. “You couldn’t even take it off if you wanted to.”

Merlin aimed to protest, but there were no words that could persuade Galorian otherwise. He couldn’t deny it nor confirm it. He couldn’t very well storm out of the room either.

King Galorian had a note, and Merlin knew with a sickening awareness what the note must contain. There was no one to tell. Gaius might know what to do about the cold iron, but then King Uther would be notified. He was trapped like a rat.

“This is how it will be. You will leave Camelot with me, and you will do anything I tell you to.”

“No…” He found his voice at last. He moved away from the bed on his hands and knees, putting distance between him and the king. He could not be away from Camelot, from _Arthur_. “I don’t know what you think, but you’re wrong.” He looked up venomously. It had no effect at all on the man looming over him.

“I might not have found who I was looking for, but I have found something at least. And right now I am satisfied. Do not cross me, boy. You are a fool if you think you can get away from me. You can’t imagine the pain I will put you through if you try.”

His magic was wild within him, wanting to reach out now that he needed to protect himself. But the band on his arm started to hurt each time it came close. He bit back the overwhelming surge within him and ground his teeth. “I will not serve you.”

It did not matter what he said. King Galorian stepped closer and Merlin made an attempt to get back onto his feet. The kick came out of nowhere and connected with his skull. He went down and felt another hit his side.

“You’re wrong!” Merlin shouted this time. His head soared with pain. He could take the pain. He could live through it. The shackle… it was burning a hole through his soul, through everyone’s trust in him. Arthur. Gaius. Freya. His mother.

If he tried to use magic now, even with his unshackled hand, all of Galorian’s accusations would be answered and he was doomed. If he _could_ even use it.

The King scoffed and laughed. “You’ve already lost!”

“No…” he sighed. He had not lost. Not yet. “You… underestimate… Camelot,” he spat out.

At that very moment the door burst open. King Galorian spun on his heel, ready to shout at the guards who had instructions to leave him alone, no matter what they heard. His growl faltered in his throat when Arthur walked in as if nothing was wrong.

The prince looked down at the heap of pity that was Merlin on the ground. He glared at King Galorian and said with the calmest tone he could muster, “King Uther has need of Merlin, sire. Get up, _Mer_ lin. The floor looks quite clean already.”

The King of Foltaig shot Arthur a look of venom, but turned it into a sweet smile only a second later. “Prince Arthur, why don’t you come in? Surely, Uther can spare him a moment. There’s something—”

“I’m afraid not, your highness. My father was adamant about his immediate arrival.”

Merlin scrambled to his feet, pulling his sleeve over the bracelet and blinked a few times to get his balance sorted. He didn’t understand what was happening. Why he would be brought before King Uther at this very moment.

“I will come with you,” King Galorian said. “I too have a matter to discuss.”

Arthur bowed politely and answered immediately, “I’m afraid this is a private matter. You will find all duties resumed in the morning.” Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s back, ushering him to the door.

“Merlin, you are not finished here.”

“Arthur.” Merlin stood up. “I can’t go with you.” He couldn’t believe his own ears, but he stood firm against Arthur’s pushing hand.

“That’s too bad, Merlin. The summon came from the king.”

“I can’t…” he said. He hid the shackled wrist inside his own jacket and covered it up by crossing his arms. Arthur couldn’t understand the depth of his fear. Even if he knew what Merlin was.

“Don’t be an idiot, _Mer_ lin! You’ll be in right trouble if you don’t go to him this instant.” Arthur essentially threatened him.

Merlin nearly laughed. Arthur’s threats were about as dangerous as the needle sharp teeth of a puppy. A mild nuisance compared to King Galorian. His vision blurred and he wasn’t certain if it was due to the kick to his head or the tears in his eyes. He couldn’t say anything for certain. Only that King Galorian’s confession would ruin him.

“No, Arthur,” he said a third time. The expression on Arthur’s face then cracked straight through his heart. He gasped as if he wanted to say something else, but Arthur beat him to it.

“That’s it. I’m convinced you are an idiot. Nevertheless, when the king summons, you follow. It is not a request.” Arthur grabbed his arm and shoved him out the door.

“Merlin,” King Galorian said behind him. He sounded malicious and patted a hand over his pocket. “You will come back right after.”

“Yes, sire,” he said, bowing his head. Arthur stared at him and steered Merlin out of the room at last.

Once they were well out of earshot of the guards, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm and turned him around. He glared at Merlin. “What on earth are you playing at?”

A trickle of blood finally left Merlin’s thick hair and dripped in a line down his temple. No wonder the kick had hurt so much. Merlin felt the warmth of the drop against his skin and gave Arthur an apologetic smile. “Arthur, thank you. But I must go back.”

“You think this is a joke? You’re going to see Uther, _now_.”

Merlin stammered. Arthur pushed him further along the hall. Merlin’s feet were not complying with his body and he staggered along. Had he eaten today? He couldn’t quite recall. His head hurt, that was the only certainty.

“I’m having you relieved from his service. This instant.”

“You can’t,” Merlin said. This time it was his hand, hastily tugging on Arthur’s sleeve. He pulled his hand back quickly to hide the shackle.

“Do you _want_ to be treated this way, Merlin?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then for goodness sake, enlighten me with what’s going on. Merlin, this man doesn’t just torture people for fun.” He lowered his voice so it wouldn’t carry in the quiet halls. “He _rapes_ them.”

Merlin lowered his eyes.

“You’re not surprised.”

The tone in Arthur’s voice gave Merlin shivers. He wasn’t certain what he heard there but it made him feel _shame_ even when nothing had happened. He couldn’t stand Arthur thinking of him like _that_.

“Does that mean… has he…?”

“No!” Merlin bit his lip and looked away, resisting the urge to touch the wound on his head lest the blood got smeared further than it already had. “No, he seems to have gotten it into his head,” he all but breathed, “that I am a sorcerer. How stupid is that?” He managed a small smile that took the edge off his stress somewhat.

Arthur stilled in front of him. Merlin felt his eyes burning into him. “Utterly ridiculous.”

Merlin didn’t dare to draw breath. He held his lips stiffly together. The only thing coursing through his mind was: _If anything happens, I want you gone._ And he had promised not to make a fuss. It meant he would go with King Galorian to Foltaig. If he didn’t—

“Come on, my father is waiting. I’ll do the talking,” Arthur said, and they walked quietly side by side. Merlin did his best to suck up any emotions that might be trying to flood out of him. He concentrated hard as he timed his steps with Arthur’s. He steadied himself the best that he could, and by the time they reached the door in King Uther’s tower his face was controlled. He only felt slightly dizzy, and he might have a few bruised ribs and, of course, there was the shackle around his wrist, but he could do this. He could.

Arthur looked at him curiously and waved a finger at him. “Not a word out of you, until you’re spoken to.”

“No, let me,” he pleaded.

Arthur shook his head. “Don’t do anything foolish, Merlin.” And he opened the door.

“You know me,” Merlin said lightly.

Arthur snorted.

King Uther Pendragon was sitting in his low chair next to the window with a small table beside him. Next to his chair stood Gaius, which had Merlin perplexed.

Behind him, Merlin heard Holden tell the guards to give the room berth as he closed and locked it. He stood beside the door as if guarding it for anyone trying to leave. The king looked at Arthur first and then shifted his gaze to Merlin.

“Father, I have summoned Merlin as per your request. As expected, Galorian is reluctant to let him go. He is to return to Galorian’s quarters immediately after his summons are over. I would argue with the man’s perverse history and Merlin’s current state that this is the opposite of what should happen.”

Gaius shifted behind the king but didn’t speak. Merlin looked down, feeling all eyes on him. On his black eye, on his left side, and on the trickle of blood down his right temple. He felt them staring at him, and he had the odd sensation that they could even see the bruises and cuts hiding behind his loose-fitting clothes.

“You have been treated with violence. Anything else?”

“No,” Arthur answered for him.

“You must speak up, tell us everything.” King Uther looked directly at Merlin. “You’ve said before that your loyalty lies here.”

Merlin looked at Arthur for permission. Arthur nodded and took a step back. There was a look in Arthur’s eyes that Merlin didn’t quite understand. He didn’t have time to go into it. He concentrated and composed himself. He kept his shoulders slumped and his wrist hidden at his side. It was an easy feat, pretending that that was the sore part of his ribs, while in fact it was the other side that bothered him the most. He could perhaps get away with it, as long as he did not have to show his bound wrist.

“I will tell you all that I know. But I am not sure if I know everything.” He looked at King Uther then, who nodded and lifted a hand a bare centimeter for him to continue. The smallness of the gesture made Merlin wonder. Did that mean Uther trusted him a lot, or not at all? He didn’t have time to consider it.

“King Galorian has a relatively broad knowledge of the use of magic and he has not ceased his searches throughout the castle, despite various warnings. And despite his outward disapproval of Holden’s actions. There are several groups of servants among Galorian’s household who do not get along. They are set to spy on each other. Both are looking for magic, but they don’t want the other to find it. I don’t know why.” He paused and licked his lips.

“He is used to having a court sorcerer, probably several, but I believe he also feels paranoid. So he tortures them all. He wants control, power. He kills them.

“Now, with the absence of any magic in Camelot, he thinks that my loyalty can be changed through violence and threats. He is used to getting his way. He will make a threat against me, soon, pretending that I have magic. And with his firm understanding of your persecution, he believes that you would let me go with him. But this is a mistake. If there were any magic you would destroy it. He doesn’t realize this. He has not anticipated your vision correctly.”

He paused for a moment. He was still looking at Uther, ignoring both Gaius and Arthur’s gazes upon him. Neither knew anything of the other’s knowledge. It killed him to make them go through this.

But he continued, “As for the tournament. I don’t think he is interested in winning or losing at all. He has not come forward about the content of the prize in private, ever. He has not tested the guards securing the prize once. He took an interest in Lady Morgana, but I think he understands she is not to be trifled with. It was a mere distraction. Entertainment. Instead he focused on trying to make me work for him. This will not happen, sire.”

He stopped and looked at King Uther’s shoulder. He couldn’t meet the man’s gaze but he could still stare in his general direction without blushing or faltering. He had had to lie enough in his life. Knowing that both Gaius and Arthur would not push him to out himself gave him all the confidence he needed to see this through.

“Arthur, do you have anything to add?” Uther asked.

“Yes, father. King Galorian has not just tortured and killed the people he suspected but he has used his power over them to rape them as well. This was observed from their servants’ conversations. We already know that Sir Alderney is nowhere to be found. Sir Carsen thinks he ran away and I’m inclined to agree. There is a large split between his knights as well. The older knights are uneasy and the younger knights are full of pride for their king.

“Additionally his own nephew, Darren, is afraid of him. He would like nothing more than to join Camelot. I do not know how loyal he is to his uncle, but I think he would be a good fit in Camelot. Although I suggest he will be a squire for various knights in order to learn the trade fully, if he is to rule Foltaig one day after his uncle.”

“I have not heard anything yet by which to forfeit this tournament. You haven’t given anything concrete,” Holden spoke up from behind Merlin and Arthur.

“There is no current proof, only our observations. One knight running away only signifies his dishonor, nothing more. The rest of his knights will not vouch against him, he is their king,” Arthur complained at Holden.

Merlin kept quiet. He had two pieces of evidence, the braid and the cold iron chain around his wrist. And neither of them were good enough to use in Uther’s presence as reasons to send the man packing. The frightened kitchen maids would also not be good enough to testify, they were too afraid.

“He has three moves to make, either everything was a distraction and he goes after Lady Morgana, or he steals the treasure before the tournament is over, or he takes Merlin with him without saying anything,” Holden said. “The only other option is that he is after Arthur, and he will alter the tournament in some way.”

“It is not a tournament to the death, Holden,” Arthur complained again.

“Arthur and Darren will be vigilant,” King Uther said, stopping anything Holden might have retorted to that.

“Sire,” Merlin started, “what if you let it take its course?”

“You’re to speak when spoken to. Nobody asked you anything,” Holden started, astounded that Merlin spoke out of turn. A single hand raised by King Uther silenced Holden for now.

Merlin looked at everyone in surprise. They were waiting for him to speak. He cleared his throat and continued. “Right now, he does not know why I am here. He believes I will be too afraid to speak truth to you. He will not know how much you understand already. I believe you should let the tournament run its course and avoid any breaking of treaties or starting any conflict.”

“Nonsense, he must be made aware that there are extra guards stationed outside of Lady Morgana’s rooms, the treasure, and the tournament grounds,” Holden stated.

“Explain your reasoning.” King Uther pointed at Holden first.

“If he knows he is not to trifle with you, he will adjust his strategy and reveal his true objective. It won’t do to invest time and energy into all of them.”

“Or he might use one of those as a distraction and get away with one of the others,” Arthur said.

“Not if they’re all covered,” Holden mentioned quietly.

“And who is covering Merlin in your plan?” Arthur pointed out.

“And your reasoning?” Uther asked Merlin.

“Um.” He looked down. “He has no interest in any of the other things.” He shifted his weight onto his other foot. “He is already intending to go home. He’s threatened me that he will take me with him. He beats me, that I can handle. But he intends to sway your minds that I am evil too. And I cannot defend myself against a king’s word.” His throat went dry. Everyone was quiet. “If… if he sees that your tactics are changed, that’s when he becomes unpredictable. Right now the cards are out.”

“That’s utterly ridiculous,” Holden said. “You don’t even know that he’s going to make that threat.”

“You’re right,” Merlin said quickly. “I _don’t_ know. I only heard him say that he would. But I don’t know that he will.”

“My boy,” Gaius spoke at last. “I think it’s time I looked at your injuries. With your permission, sire.”

“Yes. Holden, inform Galorian that he will have Merlin back in service in the morning. Refresh the guards at Morgana’s door twice as often during the night, so that they are sharp. Keep the guards at the tournament prize the same. Do not inform Darren of anything. His chance to stay with us depends on how the tournament turns out.

“Merlin, tomorrow you will serve Galorian normally. If need be, lure him to where he may be exposed. But only if necessary. I would just as soon see him depart without incident.”

Merlin and Arthur spoke at the same time.

“Father—!”

“Thank you, sire.”

Merlin bowed and felt relief wash over him when Gaius approached him and put his hands very softly on his shoulders. The old physician said nothing, merely turned him around and they left King Uther’s chamber together. The cold iron shackle burning into Merlin’s wrist, hidden beneath his jacket.

Several minutes later they turned into Gaius’ workroom and Merlin was led straight to his room.

“What has befallen you, Merlin, you have endured it well. You spoke admirably today.”

Merlin sat down on the edge of his bed. He held Gaius’ hand for a moment longer before the man left to get his salves. He didn’t want to let go yet. His life was falling apart around him in shambles and he struggled to keep pace. Whatever had happened just now in King Uther’s chambers had been survival instinct, his own self hidden away deep within.

For just a moment, in the quiet of his own room he could imagine that it was any other day. Over the past two years he had taken a liking to these walls and started to consider them his home. The large stone bricks were familiar now and the small window overlooking the western part of town was more marvelous than he could have ever hoped, for someone like himself.

Perhaps he could view one of those sunsets, one day coming soon, and feel as he had before.

Gaius returned with a large bowl and was turning a large wooden ladle through the mixture.

“Now show me where it hurts.”

 _My heart._ He closed his eyes briefly and sniffed. “Please sit, Gaius. There’s something I must show you first.”

Gaius sat down on the side of the bed and put the bowl down in front of him on one of the assorted wooden boxes that lay strewn through Merlin’s room. Merlin held out his wrist and uncovered the shackle.

“Oh, what’s this? Could it be…?” Gaius touched the iron delicately and tried to turn it around. It was closed rather tightly around Merlin’s wrist. Several symbols were engraved on the outside and its lock was small and surrounded by a swirl of letters around it.

“Yes. Galorian did it. I told him he made a mistake…”

“What did he say?”

“He believes he’s caught someone of value, either way. I’m not sure…” He thought back to the previous days and earlier that morning. He bit his lip.

“What is it?”

“Yesterday I touched his sigil on the chain that goes around his neck. It burned my finger, but I couldn’t understand why.” He held out his hand where the small cut was visible. “It wasn’t sharp.”

“Do you think it was enchanted?”

“Probably. I couldn’t have known, Gaius…”

“No, you could not. But you should be far more careful anyway. If they find out…”

“He already has!” He turned to Gaius desperately, holding out the shackle. “Is there anything you can do?”

“I’m afraid not. It will open only to the key that has bound it. Galorian will keep it closely on him. If you want to be freed, you must get close to him and get it without any tricks.” The man pursed his lips and looked with great worry at Merlin. “You cannot use any of your magic right now?”

Merlin looked down. “I haven’t tried. I think I could, but I’m afraid it would hurt. That’s what I fear. And I would be giving in to Galorian. What if it triggers something else which really does reveal what I did? I cannot give him that satisfaction.”

“I suppose not. Then you must find some other way.” Gaius picked up the bowl again and stirred the salve some more. It had a smell to it of something that had been sitting in a cabinet for the better part of two decades, with the bitter scent of several fresh herbs to reactivate it.

“I’m so useless…” he sighed while taking off his coat.

“Don’t ever say that!” Gaius exclaimed. He looked ready to whap Merlin over the head with the ladle.

Merlin lowered his head and got out of his shirt quickly. The ribs on his right side showed various discolorations and one particularly sharp bruise which had turned into a pretty-ish star shape. The shapes of fingers digging into skin were seen across Merlin’s arms and even some on his chest. A particularly dark spot covered one side of his collarbone, where he had hidden it with his scarf. The cut on his eyebrow above his left eye was healing, but it had started to itch somewhat.

Gaius began his ministrations gently, but soon found that the palm of his hand would be more suited for the amount he needed to smear. “It will take a few days for the worst ones to stop hurting.”

“I can take the pain,” he said. Then he set his jaw and made a decision. “There’s something you should know.”

“What’s that then?” Gaius took that moment to turn Merlin’s face toward him and with his calloused thumb he padded salve over Merlin’s bruised eye left eye.

“Ow!” he yelped. He pulled back his head and continued rubbing it on his own face.

“Well, I know _that_ already.”

“I’m serious, Gaius. There’s someone who knows. Someone besides Galorian.”

Gaius put down the bowl on his lap and looked at Merlin seriously. “Oh, _Merlin_ , what have you been up to? I’ve _told you_ so many times.”

“It couldn’t be helped!” he said by way of an apology. He knew Gaius’ disappointment would be severe.

“Did someone see you?”

“No…”

“Not Lady Morgana? Don’t tell me you’ve been talking to her, Merlin. If I find out—”

“Not Morgana.”

“I’ve kept my promise. I’ve asked Uther that she be seated as part of the council meetings in order to partake in some of the political talks. You’ve told me she should be useful, and she will be. Uther has consented.”

Merlin looked up at that. “That’s…. that’s fantastic! I’m sure she’ll be delighted!” he said. But his smile faltered when Gaius was still looking at him severely. “I haven’t told her anything, Gaius.”

“Well then, who?”

Merlin lowered his head and mumbled.

“What did you say?” Gaius leaned over.

“Prince Arthur,” he said softly.

Gaius stood up, the bowl clattered down on the ground, spilling its salve on the floor in front of his feet.

“You’ve _told_ Arthur Pendragon? Merlin, out of every stupid thing you could have done!”

“I didn’t! He knew!” Merlin shot in between Gaius’ ramblings.

“I don’t want to hear it! I’ve warned you so many times!” He lifted his hands in the air out of exasperation, stepping in front of Merlin and looking down at him hard.

“Has he said anything just now to his father?” Merlin shot back. “Anything at all?”

Gaius put his lips together stiffly, regarding Merlin. “No, he has not.”

“Right. There was _nothing_ I could do, Gaius.”

“You’ve always come up with something, Merlin. You’ve kept yourself hidden so well.”

“Sheer luck, up until that point. I fear it’s run out…” He held up his bruised arms as proof.

“What happened, then? And are you in any danger? You have to tell me if you are…”

Merlin told him about the time he saved Arthur from the Birugderc’s attack, and the next day when he had not heard of its particular description that it could only be noticed by sorcerers. How Arthur had lured him down into a private area of the castle where no one could overhear them and had forced him to tell the truth.

He recounted that he’d had to build up _all_ of Arthur’s trust from the start and that he’d worked as hard as he could for it. That Arthur still thought exactly the same about magic, except when it came to Merlin.

“He knows there are a few instances when magic can be used for good. He knows that. He’s seen it himself. If he is to be King of Albion, he must concede that it’s part of the land. This is what I am meant to do, Gaius. Even if it takes forever to do so.”

“The dangers are too great, Merlin.”

“He doesn’t know that you know, I haven’t told him.”

“You are forgetting one thing. That he is not king yet. And you have put an immense burden on him.”

“I know that,” he said. “So does he. I don’t know how he is making this work, but he is. This evening he heard me speak up as I would have done normally. Only this time he was on the other side of the knowledge.”

“I believe you’ve made a good friend, Merlin. Just don’t get ahead of yourself. If he needs to choose between you and his father—”

“He will choose his father. I am well aware. I won’t let him make that choice. I will find some other way.”

Gaius regarded him for some time. Merlin started to scoop up the rest of the salve and put as much as he could back into the bowl. Gaius sat down next to him again and regarded him. “It was his idea, you know.”

“What was?”

“Prince Arthur came to Uther’s chamber and had me summoned. He is the one who orchestrated to get you out of there. We thought to send Holden, but we presumed that Galorian would refer to his superior station and send him away.”

Merlin gaped at Gaius and wished for this to be true. He smiled oddly when Gaius broke into a laugh at his open expression and patted Merlin on the back, then instantly apologized when he pressed on one of Merlin’s bruises.

The following minutes were spent in silence as Gaius dabbed a wet cloth over Merlin’s head wound trying to get off as much caked blood as he could. Merlin stayed quiet despite the stinging and occupied his mind elsewhere.

He bid Gaius good night as soon as the man was done bandaging his head—something he said he didn’t want but Gaius had given him one of his looks, with the eyebrow, and Merlin had given in to him instantly.

They bid each other goodnight and Merlin was left in his dark room surrounded by the quiet which gave him room to think. All he could think of was Arthur.

It had been Arthur’s idea to begin with, to get him out. Arthur who had taken him to see the King, to overrule anything Galorian would say. Arthur who probably had not expected Galorian to plan to reveal him as a sorcerer, and who had not expected Merlin to say so at all. But who had gone along with it.

For all the aches in his body, his heart bled. He knew at that moment that he was falling in love and it wouldn’t help him _at all_. Now when everything hinged on his escape from Galorian’s shackles, on the winner of the tournament, and on how Galorian would try to twist King Uther around his finger. There was no way he could make room for this in his life.

And yet there it was.

  
**\-----22 Arthur-----**

Arthur was up well before dawn. He stalked his room until four thirty before dressing himself because he couldn’t wait for George anymore. He entered the corridors and picked up a burning torch from its socket in the wall to re-light some of the others which had gone out during the night.

The castle was empty except for the smell of warm bread and yeast coming from the kitchens. A single maid from the Pendragon household carried clean linen up the stairs as he descended.

Once he got down to the armory he found two squires already at work preparing the gear for the knights they served. He greeted them with a good morning and although they both looked up with large eyes at him—lords were not supposed to be up that early—they continued their work with diligence. Who knows, their knight might prevail that day and it would mean a moment of glory for them too.

Arthur exited the armory and headed towards the training fields. There was no one there and the torch lit his path through the darkness of the autumn morning. It had been dry for over a week and the trampled grasses cracked under his feet as he strolled over to the arena. A few odd birds were making their presence known and a horse whinnied in the stables nearby. Arthur switched hands with the torch and looked at the arena, the podium, and the tents. He walked around inspecting every element. Occasionally his eyes would drift back to the castle to see how many windows were lit.

He walked around the tents of all the knights, trying to find anything out of place, anything that would skew the upcoming tournament day in King Galorian’s favor. Or otherwise.

After over an hour of searching he hadn’t found anything of use. Every ten minutes or so his eyes drifted to the western tower, the tower which housed the physician’s quarters. He realized with annoyance that he’d been doing that quite a lot. In fact, he was starting to admit to himself that he hadn’t been able to get Merlin out of his head since he had learned about his abilities.

No, that wasn’t entirely right either. He’d known from the start that there was something about him. The way he defied Arthur and the way he gave him a change of heart on many topics. How he would stick his neck out where it didn’t belong in order for justice to prevail. Though he was pretty thick, as far as Arthur was concerned, Merlin showed a strong moral compass that he’d come to depend on. And now it was about to be taken away from him and he _did not like it one bit._

He swore under his breath and walked back and forth aimlessly between his tent and the one belonging to Sir Caridoc. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless. As Prince of Camelot he should have felt that he had more power than this. More control. As the first light of dawn crept up the sky and outlined the treetops of the horizon to him, he came to a horrible, desperate conclusion. There was no way that Camelot would feel right without Merlin there with him, beside him.

He shook his head, as if that would help. He strived to reason himself out of it. His men, the knights of Camelot, were the bravest of the land and some of them had fallen in battles great and small. Their honorable sacrifices kept Camelot on its feet and Arthur had never allowed himself to mourn any of their losses beyond what was strictly required. He felt their loss, certainly, but it had never crippled him. Not like this.

He swore again and nearly faltered when he noticed a knight and his squire who had just come up the path for early morning practice. He felt as if he had been caught escaping his tutoring lessons.

He gave them a small greeting and looked away. His eyes found the western tower and the candles were lit. Without a second thought he started running back to the castle, the torch guttering in complaint beside his ear.

He sped through the armory, up the stairs, and through the entrance hall towards the physician’s tower. He got rid of the torch at an empty socket and sorted his shirt. _What am I doing?_ He realized he felt nervous.

 _Get a grip!_ What King Galorian wanted to do was larger than him, whatever he might have thought about it. If he wanted to make a difference, he needed to bite back what he felt. He took the last stairs and pushed through the door to Gaius’ workroom to find Merlin sitting with his back to him on a bench with his arms in the air and Gaius helping him put one of his red shirts on. Gaius looked up at Arthur in shock as he tugged on the shirt.

“Prince Arthur!” Gaius said astounded.

“I didn’t know _you_ needed help getting dressed too, _Mer_ lin,” he said by way of familiar greeting. He didn’t, however, miss the dark stain across Merlin’s lower ribs. But his skin was hidden quickly from Arthur as Merlin stiffly dropped his arms and pulled his shirt the rest of the way down. He saw Merlin huddle his arms around himself and turn to look at Arthur with a guilty, sleepy smile.

“Are you trying to get George fired?” Merlin asked as Gaius handed him his scarf. Merlin put it on quickly and crossed his arms again.

“If that would get you back in my service, that might actually be a plan.” He put his hands on his hips and turned to Gaius, greeting him. He nearly missed how Merlin was looking at him from the corner of his eyes.

Inwardly, he was shouting for Merlin. He wanted to reach out and hold him, like he had done outside his father’s tower. He wanted to tell him that he was doing everything in his power to help and that he didn’t know if he _could_. That he was afraid Galorian would expose Merlin, have him sentenced by his father or exiled. That Galorian would take Merlin with him.

“It’s very kind of you to pay a visit at this hour, sire,” Gaius began cautiously. “But Merlin needs a bit more rest before he is fit to resume his duties to the King.”

Arthur stared at Gaius momentarily. What was he doing here? He didn’t even know. This was the private hour that Merlin and Gaius got to spend together and he was positive it meant a lot to Merlin to relish this moment, as it could be his last.

“Uh yes, I…” he stammered. He took a deep breath. The smell of healing salve filled his nose. “I’ve come to ask you about… the braid.”

“The braid, sire?” Gaius asked.

“Merlin knows what I’m talking about. The red hair. I know who it’s from. And for whom it seems to be intended.”

This got Merlin’s attention. He sat upright and pulled a stiff leg over the bench to straddle it, so he could look at Arthur with heavy lidded eyes. The bruise on his cheek was more green and yellow than the day before. Arthur realized with a pang that Merlin must still be in pain right this minute.

“I have it. It’s hidden,” Merlin said shortly. Arthur noticed how Gaius looked at Merlin with concern and disapproval.

“It belonged to one of Galorian’s sorcerers, the one who was killed recently. One of the serving women was his betrothed. The one with short hair.” He swallowed. He remembered how she told him that she had never had the chance to love Manath. She’d been too late to even begin. His head swam. “He had a vision shortly before he… before he ended his own life.” Merlin’s eyes glazed over at the statement. “The serving woman asked me to find and bring the braid to _Emrys_.”

For a brief moment Arthur noticed Merlin’s features change as if he realized exactly what was going on. It was just for an instant because now he looked as sleepy as before. Had he imagined it or did Merlin know something that he wasn’t sharing?

Gaius shifted beside Arthur and sat down on a chair, pulling a blanket over his shoulders. After what seemed like an eternity it was he who spoke first, with difficulty. “Has she told you anything about this person?”

“No. Only that he needs the braid and it contains something special. Something he saw within his vision. It would finish his ultimate goal, which I believe was to defeat Galorian.”

Gaius looked worried. “Sire, can you give credence to such visions?”

Arthur balled his fist. He wasn’t playing his cards right if he immediately believed anyone with a tale about magic. He wasn’t _supposed_ to support magic at all. “That sorcerer is dead already,” he answered coolly. “The woman who told me the story was just a serving woman and she asked for my help.”

Merlin looked down, studying the bench and Arthur couldn’t read his face. He continued, “It is the only evidence we have that binds Galorian to his cruel acts.”

“I’m afraid a lock of hair won’t do anything by itself. But I can look into it, if you wish,” Gaius said matter-of-factly.

Arthur looked at him with worry. He needed to know if Gaius would be on his side, but he was fairly certain that Gaius would be on _Merlin’s_ side.

“If you’re hiding something…” he started, but realized that his threat could have the opposite effect if he continued. “If the braid doesn’t get to this ‘Emrys,’ then I’m out of options. It’s all I’ve got right now.”

He felt like shouting it into Merlin’s ears. _Don’t you see I would do anything so that you won’t leave me?_ Instead he huffed like the spoiled prince he was and turned to leave, since neither of them seemed particularly happy with the news. He’d have to come up with something else.

“Arthur,” Merlin called to him softly.

Hearing his voice was enough to stop him in his tracks. It was almost as if some other force was dragging him into a different dimension, pulling at him to stay in the room, splitting his whole being into a realm of confusion. He looked back over his shoulder.

Merlin looked at him through his lashes, his lips pursed together thoughtfully. He was walking on thin ice as usual. Finally he said, “Thank you. For coming to tell us that. I don’t know if it can help, but…”

Arthur nodded once and turned away again, walking out. “I don’t want to know about it. Just do what you can.”

  
**\-----23 Merlin-----**

Once Arthur closed the door, he and Gaius exchanged glances. Merlin didn’t know what to say. He lowered his head in his hands and let out a long sigh. “Gaius, do you know what this means?”

“It seems that Prince Arthur is a might steadier than I presumed.”

“No.” He lowered his arms onto his knees and stretched his back. He felt an immense relief unwind from the muscles in his shoulders. “It means that nobody knows who Emrys is. I thought at least someone from Galorian’s household was convinced…”

“She took a great risk in talking to Arthur.” The old man leaned back. “What he said about the sorcerer’s fate…”

Merlin stood up and turned towards his room. “That won’t happen to me. I know the shape of my destiny. All I am missing is the details.” He returned a few moments later with the blue decorated cloth which held the red haired braid. “I don’t live for myself. I never have. If someone knew something about my fate, we have to find out what it is.”

Gaius looked severely at Merlin, wondering if the boy knew the implications of his words. He was afraid that Merlin was still only looking at what was directly in front of him. There was no patience to his method, and while it irked Gaius, he didn’t seem to be able to get his point across. “Bring it here.”

They studied the braid together, it seemed to simply be a bundle of red hair tied around itself and held together at both ends by pieces of black string. It had likely been cut off right above the top string, close to the skull, and had been carried around as one piece.

When Merlin looked at it more closely he found that several threads were spun through the hair, in an equally red shade as the locks. But the thread moved differently from the hairs. “Gaius, what are these?”

He pointed with a thin metal tool and held it under one of the strings. Gaius leaned down to look at it and mumbled something that sounded like _I wonder_ and did not help Merlin at all.

They looked more closely and discovered that the threads had tiny stones interwoven with approximately equal spaces of an inch in between. Throughout the length of the hair these tiny stones were fastened to each string. The stones were a simple gray and did not look precious.

“They’re almost like grains of sand. I can’t imagine anything so small being able to do anything special,” Merlin complained. He felt almost cross-eyed for staring.

Gaius sighed, “Well, you can’t test anything right now. You have been bound already, before you had the chance to figure it out.”

“Wait, look at this.” Merlin held one of the stones up against the light. There was a small relief visible on one of the sides.

Gaius shrugged and complained his eyesight was not what it had once been.

“I think something is written on it. It could be a rune.”

“A rune? Engraved on a surface that small?”

Merlin looked at the other stones, careful not to unwind the threads from the hairs. “Here’s another. And this one.” He held it up against the light, each time twisting the stones between his fingers. “I think he found out how magic could protect him when he was bound. He added these one by one, and suffered only the faintest amount when he had to summon power from them.”

“I don’t believe that’s how it works, Merlin.” Gaius put a hand on his chained wrist. “It may offer some protection, but it does not reverse the effects of the iron.”

“Perhaps it will.” Merlin pulled away from Gaius’ warm hand and held the braid in the palm of his hand.

“Merlin.” Gaius’ tone made him pause.

It was too risky, too dangerous. Any confirmation of his magic would provide evidence towards King Uther and his whole speech of his loyalty to Camelot and his presumed innocence would have been for nothing.

“I know, Gaius.” He squeezed the braid in the hand that held the chain on his wrist. He was glad nothing had happened yet. And that nothing seemed to be happening now.

“I’ll carry it with me today. I don’t know what to do with it, but perhaps I will find out.” He thought about asking the Great Dragon, but the beast was not friendly with him lately and he doubted that he would have the privacy to head down to the dungeons for a short talk.

“I will be watching over the injured knights today. There won’t be anything I can do for you,” Gaius said with a strain in his voice.

“I know,” he said. “I will be fine, Gaius. Somehow. It’s been foretold, hasn’t it?” He wanted to believe that the sorcerer’s vision had answers for him.

Gaius didn’t seem so certain. “I mean it, Merlin. I cannot lose you.”

Merlin folded the cloth back over the braid and tucked it into an inner pocket of his jacket. He stitched it up so it would remain there safely for now. “It’s not that I’m not frightened,” he told his master at length. “But I know the options before me, and I cannot run from them.”

“The tournament will happen without you as well,” Gaius pressed.

“But I won’t be rid of this.” Merlin lifted his wrist. The cold iron cuff weighed heavily on it. “And I am meant to do something about Galorian, I know it.”

“You had better not do anything yourself. You are no match without your—”

Merlin got up and put his suede jacket on, getting ready to bring the king his breakfast. “I won’t forget it. I cannot…”

With a heavy feeling in his heart, he said goodbye to Gaius and started his day.

He got the king’s breakfast from the usual place in the kitchen, thanked the cook, and hurried through the hall. He nearly bumped into a servant carrying a large carpet and he had to remind himself that there was no rescuing any of the contents on his tray this time if he should stumble.

He slowed down and carefully brought the food up to King Galorian’s room, passing the sentries stationed along the wall and knocked briefly on the door.

Galorian was sitting at the table and looked at Merlin with dissatisfaction. He was dressed in exactly the same clothes as the evening before, as if no one had come to undress him, or perhaps someone had dressed him already that morning.

“Good morning, my lord,” he greeted in a soft, demure voice. He offered the breakfast tray and took the top off. The plate contained cheese, smoked meat, and several rolls of fresh bread. It even had a side of blackberries, which Merlin had requested from the kitchen as it seemed to be something King Galorian enjoyed. Anything to avoid being punished. Everything was situated on the plate perfectly.

Galorian ignored the plate and pushed his chair back. It made the hairs on Merlin’s neck stand on end. He lowered his gaze.

“Tell me, Merlin.” He put his hands behind his back and circled around the servant. “Why is it that after my specific instructions to return, I hear that I will have your services resumed in the morning? Is this how you normally treat kings?”

“No, sire.” He did not presume to answer anything else.

He continued walking to Merlin’s other side and stood in front of him again. He regarded Merlin along his long nose and spat. “You are a poor liar. Kneel down.”

Merlin only hesitated a moment before he knelt. He was not as frightened as the day before, but he would have to show that he was. He lowered his head and pretended that he was flinching at every move Galorian made.

“Hold out your hands,” Galorian ordered. He seemed satisfied for now with Merlin’s responses to him.

Merlin held out two hands with the palms up. Galorian grabbed his right wrist and lifted the sleeve. He looked at the cold iron shackle, and fondled it with his greedy fingers. “How do you feel about this?”

“I… I don’t understand what you mean, sire.”

Galorian clocked him against his ear, smacking his temple, and Merlin went to the floor. He was hit on the side of his head where the scratch was stitched. He felt the pull of the threads and it stung more than the beating. His ear felt hot from the impact, but it would subside. He could get through this.

He scrambled back up to his knees again to avoid any more kicks to his body.

“You think I don’t know you! You think I don’t understand _exactly_ what’s going on?” The man’s spit landed on Merlin’s forehead. His fists were inches from Merlin’s face. At least he was not kicking him. “You have magic, I know you do. That means Camelot will get rid of you the first chance they get. You know this as well.”

Merlin shifted away from Galorian’s fists. He wore his most confused face and looked up at Galorian. “I don’t understand,” he repeated.

The king clenched his teeth. “It means the only chance you have to survive is to leave Camelot. Because I know exactly what Uther does to your kind.”

Merlin huddled to himself and shook his head. His ear had started to throb but he ignored it. His other bruises were a faint memory now thanks to Gaius’ excellent salve. He could bear to be in this man’s presence for now. He could get through it.

“You will stop resisting. The letter has already been sent to King Uther.”

When Merlin looked at him, the king sneered with pure smug delight. “Yes, you heard me correctly. I expect a summon before the day is out.”

Despite his best efforts a cold shiver traveled up his spine and he felt a flush creep up his face.

Galorian laughed at him. “Do you remember when you touched my sigil’s chain? You got hurt, that’s what! That wouldn’t have happened if you had nothing magical about you. Your magic is probably as weak as the rest of you. But that doesn’t matter. Uther will spit you out!” The king’s hand shot out to grab Merlin by the collar and shake him. “The only thing you can do now is give up your position. You are not wanted here anymore.”

Merlin shivered and steadied himself. “Yes, sire.” He did not specify what he was agreeing with.

Outside the trumpets had just started to sound, indicating that the final day of the tournament would commence. Their presence would be required at the podium.

Galorian continued in a low voice. “You will work harder than you have ever worked before, today. You will prove to me that you are worthy of serving me, and I might take you to Foltaig.”

“Yes, sire,” he said again. He was afraid his voice might betray anything else. The biggest obstacle was that King Galorian thought he was weak and pitiful. And now without access to his magic, he was starting to believe that he would not be able to get away from this man. Not with his own strength. He couldn’t physically overpower him. Perhaps he could find where he kept the key to the shackle. Even then, overpowering him with magic seemed far too risky.

“Today I want to drink honey wine," he said and dismissed Merlin with a wave of his hand.

Merlin scrambled out of the room and rushed down the stairs to get King Galorian what he wanted. He would be at the platform before the king ever got there. Hopefully before King Uther was there. He might even have a word with Holden.

If the letter had reached the king, he would know, at last, if Uther believed his words from the previous night or if the number of times Merlin was accused had finally grated down Uther’s belief of Arthur’s words in his favor.

Merlin rushed to the podium carrying several bottles of honey wine and entered through the curtain at the back. The three high chairs for King Uther, King Galorian, and Lady Morgana were ready. Gwen stood behind Morgana’s chair with an extra blanket around her shoulders, as there was a chill in the air. When she noticed Merlin, she smiled cautiously.

“Are you alright?” Her innocent smile warmed Merlin somewhat.

“Yes, don’t worry about me," he said, and grinned at her.

She looked at him oddly.

“Oh, this?” He pointed at his black eye. “Some of the knights today will be suffering much worse.”

“They will, but not for the same reasons though.” She raised her eyebrows and lowered her chin, demanding a straight answer from him.

“Ah, no. Not the same, and yet not so different either.”

“Come on, Merlin. What happened?”

“Nothing, I slept well. How about you?” he asked, trying to find out if anything had happened around Morgana’s quarters last night. If Gwen’s calm demeanor was any hint, nothing strange had occurred.

She didn’t seem happy with his answer and huffed. “No one should treat you this way.”

“Perhaps they should,” Holden stepped up onto the podium and looked at the two of them in discussion. Gwen took a step back immediately and returned to Morgana’s chair.

She answered him defiantly though. “There are ways to handle things. This isn’t correct.”

“Merlin,” Holden ignored her comment, “King Uther would like a word with you.”

Merlin paled. _Already?_ Gwen looked at him with worry this time.

“He is arriving now. Gwen, excuse us.”

The woman frowned at Holden but stepped out of the podium and walked over to the audience box, which was filling with more and more citizens who had come to witness the finals.

Merlin put the bottles down behind the servant’s curtain and gulped when King Uther was suddenly occupying most of the podium when he turned around again what seemed like only one second later.

Uther looked at Holden briefly, who nodded.

“I have received the letter you expected. It seems that King Galorian is going ahead with the plans as you have predicted.” Uther held out the note by means of proof. It looked to be the same note from the night before and Merlin nodded nervously. “I expect Galorian to make a spectacle and prove it. You will fail this test, won’t you?”

Merlin gulped and nodded quickly. He didn’t even have time to process what Uther said with his menacing voice. King Uther was still far more frightening than anything Galorian had presented him.

“What’s the problem, Merlin?” Holden asked, noticing his distress.

Merlin jutted his jaw at Holden defiantly. He did not understand why the man was putting him on edge like this. “Unknown factors,” he answered with a glare. “I do not expect him to play fair.”

George poked his head around the corner suddenly and whispered something to Holden. Uther studied Merlin for a moment longer and turned away to sit on his throne. Lady Morgana entered a moment later, her jeweled hand elegantly rested on King Galorian’s arm. He continued to hold her hand as she seated herself and Gwen was allowed back onto the podium.

Galorian gave Merlin a filthy grin before seating himself royally on the chair on Uther’s other side. He casually asked King Uther if he had made any decision yet, and Uther said that this was a matter to be discussed after the tournament was ended. Galorian seemed satisfied with his answer.

If he had had any notion of Uther’s dealings with sorcerers, he would have noticed that this was highly unusual for Uther. As the man’s intellect was about as considerable as his patience, Galorian remained unaware.

Merlin ducked behind the curtain to compose himself. Holden stood beside him, polishing the goblets to perfection and cleaning them in case anyone would have lined them with poison.

“What is your problem?” Merlin asked him straight out. He was pretty certain that no one could overhear them here.

“My problem, Merlin,” he breathed on a spoon, “is that I spend every day ensuring that Camelot’s serving staff do not fail before the eyes of the lords. They have enough political problems as it is.”

“Until today we did not know for certain that there was no ulterior motive,” Merlin corrected him sharply.

“And still I fail to see the big problem. We are supposed to bend our backs to them and not have them take action because of us.”

“Am I in the way of your golden plume? Well, I’m sorry that I bent my back to King Galorian, and my face, and almost everything else. And, I’m sorry too that he has a nephew who made my presence so unnecessary to Arthur.”

“To _Prince_ Arthur. You seem to think it’s fine to play at the political level of the ones you serve. You will be reminded that you are entirely replaceable.”

Merlin glared at him and bit his lip. _Arthur doesn’t seem to think so._ “Yes, sir,” he answered out of habit. He turned away and uncorked one of the bottles of honey wine.

“And one more thing,” Holden began as the trumpets started up again, filling the arena with a deafening metallic cacophony.

Merlin turned to face him with a stony expression.

When the noise died down Holden spoke. “You had better be right.”

Merlin lifted his hand to take King Galorian’s goblet from Holden. “I wish I wasn’t.”

He stepped through the curtain to serve Galorian and stand behind him with the bottle while watching the tournament finals start. Sir Bedivere was the speaker of the day, having been eliminated the day before but otherwise unharmed. His booming voice filled the arena as he announced the contestants. There were three contestants from Foltaig and five from Camelot.

The last to be announced with a great anticipating buzz from the audience was Prince Arthur, who was followed by Darren as he walked up the path to stand by the others. They faced the kings and bowed before announcing their honor. Darren stood right behind Prince Arthur, carrying his banner with pride. Any other time it would have been Merlin carrying the banner. And he would have been more proud than Darren was, he knew that for certain.

Merlin had his lips pressed together to hide any expression on his face. And yet his gaze automatically sought Arthur out among the contestants. Merlin knew Arthur’s armor so well he could pick him out of a hundred men in active battle instantly.

He felt Arthur’s gaze on him. It was hard to distinguish from behind the helmet but he _knew_. Arthur wasn’t looking at either of the kings but straight at him.

 _Stop being an idiot_. He told himself. Arthur fought for honor, not for him. It was a ludicrous presumption and yet it made something move in his belly that he hadn’t felt in some years. He bit back any thoughts of that nature and filled Galorian’s cup back up to the rim. The man had already had drunk two full goblets and it didn’t suit Merlin well at all.

The first battle commenced and the crowds cheered loudly. The dust on the arena floor was kicked up and swords hit against shields loud enough for Merlin to imagine muscle and bone tearing.

After the first two rounds Arthur was up against one of Galorian’s knights, Sir Wymer. Despite the man’s strength, Arthur made quick work of his victory. His strength on the battlefield today showed no inhibition of his seldom seen brutal side. Sir Wymer fell within several minutes and was carried off with likely a broken leg and several broken ribs. It put King Galorian off his drink for the whole of the next round, which was the last of the quarter finals.

For the next round, Arthur needed to be back in the ring to fight against Sir Leon. Merlin noticed their hesitation in the first few moments of battle before they became serious. Their opening moves looked more like their sparring training sessions which Merlin had observed whenever he could. Arthur had lost most of his brute force between the last battle and this one.

Galorian lifted his hand towards Merlin. He almost missed it because he was watching Arthur fight. The king beckoned him to come closer with a greedy finger.

The crowds cheered and even Lady Morgana seemed more invested in this fight than she had in others.

“You will alter the outcome of the match. Arthur will lose. Make it so,” he whispered into Merlin’s ear.

Merlin nearly dropped the bottle of honey wine, fumbling with it to keep it from spilling. “I can’t do that…” he tried.

The king yanked his neckerchief down and Merlin felt himself go along with it, changing his posture into a submissive bow. “You will do as I say. Or else I shall have you arrested right here, with all the spectacle that ensues.”

“I’m not what you think I am,” he repeated.

Arthur happened to catch an eye of what was happening at the podium and he got a hit from Leon directly in his shoulder.

“Good, very good.”

“I didn’t do anything!” he complained, looking at the arena and at Arthur who had resumed his round with Leon in earnest.

“You will need to be useful for me, or there is nothing to keep you alive for. Get up!” He firmly grabbed a hand onto Merlin’s wrist and turned to King Uther, begging his forgiveness but he had to be away for a few minutes.

Uther smiled kindly at him and replied that he hoped Galorian would rejoin them soon, as the finals would start swiftly.

Merlin wanted to say no, he wanted to remain here at the podium at least until the end of the tournament. It was the last obligation he would have to the king. But it seemed he would be denied that escape. What did Galorian have planned next?

Leon and Arthur continued their fight and the crowds were wild. They were a close match, but after a good fifteen minute fight and a good five yards between the knight and his sword, Sir Leon yielded. Prince Arthur had made it to the finals.

At that same moment Merlin was pulled away from the podium roughly by King Galorian who dragged him along behind the benches and out of people’s sight to Sir Carsen’s tent.

Sir Carsen was up next for the last round of the semi-finals. He was being hoisted in his armor by his squire whose name Merlin didn’t know. The blue-and-white tent cast a cool glow and accentuated Carsen’s dark hair and beard. The man looked very unfriendly and Merlin had a suspicion the man would win this round and make Arthur’s life very difficult in the upcoming finals.

King Galorian spoke to Sir Carsen while still holding onto Merlin’s wrist. Merlin for his part pretended not to be there. “Yes, you will be great out there,” Galorian assured him. “I can see the prize is almost in our hands already. I’m confident in your abilities, Carsen!” All the while, the king’s hands were bruising Merlin’s wrist, pushing the shackle deeper into his skin.

Sir Carsen was looking at Merlin with some interest. He saw a cruel sort of pleased curl on Carsen’s lip. The man nodded and took his helmet from his squire’s hand. “I will win this, sire.”

“You will. Now get out. All of you.”

Sir Carsen, his squire, one of Foltaig’s armorers, and two other servants left the tent without needing to be told twice. It was just him and Merlin. And the band around his wrist.

“You see all those people out there. They won’t matter. They will be turning their backs on you the moment this tournament is over. You know it will happen.”

Merlin bit his lip. He wanted to tug away his hand, he wanted to run, shout for help, and he wanted the ground to be stable beneath his feet. King Uther had already received the message and Merlin could not be certain of the man’s intentions until he had passed whatever test Galorian would present him with.

“You have nothing to prove to any of them that will help you from your fate. The only thing you can do to save yourself is to ensure Sir Carsen wins the finals.” He reached around his neck and took out a narrow chain. At the end of the chain dangled a small key.

“I can’t do what you think I can.” Merlin tried once more to change the man’s views. If it was a test, he would have to sit it out. He started pulling at his wrist, trying to free himself.

It was the wrong thing to do apparently.

Galorian’s balled fist met with his solar plexus and Merlin stumbled onto his back, desperate to breathe. The king’s displeasure showed across his rough, unkempt features. He almost growled as he beat on Merlin and kicked his side.

Merlin slowly found his breath, and as the air turned into his freedom to move he gasped hoarsely and tried to roll away from Galorian’s feet.

“You will obey me!” the king shouted. He knelt down and before Merlin knew it, another cold iron shackle was bound to his left wrist and the two interlinked with each other in a flash of magic, binding both his hands close together. It started to burn his wrist and he gasped in surprise.

That too was the wrong thing to do.

King Galorian roared with laughter, he grabbed the chains and leaned over the servant. “You don’t like this one bit, do you? No, that’s because I know exactly what you are and I know exactly what will happen to you if I call them in here. Did you really think I was stupid enough to let you get away with it?”

Merlin felt a searing pain shoot through his body from the shackles. Whatever happened when the two shackles interlinked, it shot all the way through his body and it did not subside. It felt like he was whipped and branded with heated iron all over his body. Even with his best efforts he could not keep the pain off his face.

King Galorian relished in it, his hand started traveling up and down Merlin’s side and chest, feeling for muscles twitching and rippling against the pain. His hand traveled lower to Merlin’s belt and started tugging on the hem of his breeches.

“You won’t have any reason to stay. You won’t have anything left anymore.” Galorian turned Merlin over and his hands stole greedy feels all over his body where they should not go by rights.

Merlin bit his lip to stop himself from making any sound. If he shouted or begged for help, the king would certainly call the guards.

“Are you ready to give in yet?” Galorian purred.

He blinked back the tears which had formed as he struggled to breathe, and from the searing hot torturous flashes through his body, making him twitch and jerk on the ground as if he was being stabbed with the business end of a sword at various places all at once. He was not ready to break down yet. Not yet.

Then the braid fell out of Merlin’s jacket, on the ground in front of him. Merlin’s heart nearly stopped when he saw it lying there. From the absence of Galorian’s reaction, he had not seen the foot long red hair lying in the grass.

With the greatest effort he could muster Merlin moved his burning wrists and grabbed hold of it before Galorian could see.

  
**\-----24 Arthur-----**

Arthur had hardly had a moment’s rest between the fights of the quarter and semi-finals. His fight against Leon had been heavy, but he hadn’t expected any less from the man. They had spoken heartily after the round was over, until Arthur had noticed the empty seat of Galorian.

King Uther sat as if nothing was wrong with the world, overlooking the arena and occasionally talking to Morgana.

Neither King Galorian nor Merlin were where they were supposed to be. Leon asked him what was up but Arthur shook his head and started walking back to his tent.

Darren greeted him with a large goblet of ale which Arthur declined. He asked Darren to take off his pauldron and put his breastplate on for the finals. He would have to carry more weight and be restricted in movement, but at least he would be able to take several more blows than his chainmail would allow him. And that meant he could forfeit his shield and use a two-handed sword instead of his one-hander he had used so far. If Sir Carsen won he’d need the distance to defeat the man. Darren helped him expertly and tied the straps quickly.

And there it was, the announcements. The audiences sitting in the benches were starting to shout. They saw who the finalists were. It was Sir Carsen against him. It was not a surprise for most who attended. Arthur, as usual, couldn’t bear to disappoint his father and he was ready to give his all.

“Arthur!” Gwen ran into the tent, looking around before she saw him beside the large shields leaning against the tent supports. “Arthur, you’ve got to come!”

“I know, it’s time for the finals.” He looked at Darren beside him and huffed a laugh. “I’m almost ready.”

Gwen looked at him incredulously. “Not that. It’s Merlin. We can’t find him anywhere. He left with Galorian. Holden has gone to check on the city gates, but he returned and said the King didn’t go that way.”

“I can’t go off on a rampage, I need to fight.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, actually I do. This is what I’m here for, Gwen.” He noticed Darren looking sullen.

Gwen looked him up and down once. As her disappointment crossed her fine features, she picked up her skirt and opened the tent flap. “I thought you had figured out which fight to pick.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” But either she chose to ignore him or she was out of earshot already.

He picked up his sword, he didn’t have a sheath on his sword belt—it would only get in the way during the finals—and exited his tent.

Darren followed behind him. Arthur turned to him. “Tell Sir Bedivere that I will be there, but I need to do something first. And keep it vague.” He saw Darren’s utter confusion and cursed under his breath. This was exactly the type of thing he needed Merlin for. “Go!”

 _Dammit, Merlin. Where are you_? He left Darren where he was and searched past the other tents. If Merlin was not in the castle and hadn’t rode out of any gates, he would still be here.

He saw Sir Carsen stand near the entrance of the ring, with his hands on his hips and confidently looking at the crowd. His crew stood beside him. His _whole_ crew.

Without a second thought he ran towards Sir Carsen’s tent. The tent stood at the very end of the whole encampment, no doubt chosen for its seclusion.

When he got near the tent, he dreaded what he might find. Perhaps he would be too late.

He charged into the tent through the front flap and saw Galorian leaning over Merlin, who was lying broken on the ground and the king’s hands were stroking Merlin’s bare hips. Arthur’s battle adrenaline and years of diplomatic training fought for control at the same time.

“Galorian, what is the meaning of this?”

Galorian’s first reaction was a self-satisfied grin. The man’s hands did not leave Merlin’s body.

The worst part was Merlin’s eyes. Their loss and shame. He turned his face away from Arthur’s. It ripped a hole right through him and he raised the sword against the king.

“Prince Arthur. Aren’t you scheduled for the finals?” Galorian asked sweetly. “The crowd is roaring.”

“Unhand him, Galorian. He belongs to Camelot.”

“You cannot presume to tell me what to do, Prince Arthur. Merlin has already made his choice. He is traveling to Foltaig with me. And you know you are better off without someone like him.”

“You are wrong about that.” Arthur inched closer. He saw that Merlin’s hands were bound and that Merlin was hardly able to move. Something was terribly wrong.

“I am going to teach him some manners. You said yourself what a poor performance he showed in your service. I will be able to ensure his talents reach the surface at last.”

“If Merlin has made any mistakes in the past, Camelot has suitably punished him already. Whatever you think you’re doing, it goes against our code of conduct.” He still held the sword and was inching closer.

It seemed to have an effect on the king, since he took his hands away at last and stood up. To Arthur’s disgrace he noticed the man’s erection outlined in his breeches.

“And what does your code of conduct say about _sorcerers_ , Prince Arthur? You would rid yourself of any who possess magic, would you not?”

Arthur bit back without hesitation. “You’re a damned fool if you think he is one. I’ve known Merlin for years, I would _know_ if he was. Stop this ridiculous show. Whatever your goals are, you have crossed the line!”

“You are the fool, Prince Arthur, that you never saw what was right in front of you!” Galorian put his foot on Merlin possessively. “So you see, it is you who are being ridiculous! The laws of Camelot would never abide his existence!”

  
**\-----25 Merlin-----**

Merlin kept his face to the grass. He could not deal with both the painful spasms and Arthur in the tent without breaking down. He was lying on his stomach, with the braid tucked underneath him. It had to help him somehow. There _had_ to be something he could do.

Arthur argued his politics. He wanted to shout at Arthur to just kill the man—but that would ruin Arthur’s whole reputation, it would break whatever pact that was made between the regions and cause political unrest in all neighboring territories. There was nothing Arthur could do to get him out of this.

It was up to him to save Arthur. Bound, bruised and broken, with his hands tied and his magic restricted. All he had was the braid of red hair.

He fiddled with it around the shackles on his wrist as Arthur kept Galorian talking.

“And what does your code of conduct say about _sorcerers_ , Prince Arthur?” Merlin froze for a moment, wondering how Arthur would react. To his surprise, Arthur took his side again. It was more than he ever thought possible.

When he pushed the braid along his wrist to prevent the burn of the shackle, he felt an immediate relief. He sighed deeply and curled the lock of hair entirely around his right wrist, where the shackle had been since the night before, where it had almost innocently stopped him from even daring to do anything about it. Was this what the sorcerer had intended?

The relief came so suddenly that Merlin felt his whole body relax momentarily. He was still afraid, moreover because the noise from the arena seemed to get louder every moment. The crowd was cheering for Arthur and in response the servants and knights from Foltaig were yelling back.

Merlin turned around and snaked out his hand. But he was looking at Arthur and he was instantly afraid of doing any magic right then and there.

He feared killing Galorian would never go down well with any potential witness who might need to identify the cause of death. He could not protect Arthur anymore if he was accused of murdering a king either.

King Galorian became more agitated too, holding him down as if he was a prize hunting trophy, shot in the woods. Merlin lowered his hand again. He had to find another way, something non-magical to get himself free. He started to crawl away, trying to shake that heavy foot off his back.

Right at that moment Darren ran into the tent, together with Sir Carsen and Carsen’s squire and one of his armorers. Sir Caridoc and Sir Bedivere arrived moments later through the same tent flap. Suddenly the tent was full of the spectacle of Arthur with a raised sword facing King Galorian.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sir Carsen demanded.

Arthur took a step back and lowered his sword. He glared at Galorian and Merlin understood that there was nothing Arthur could do. Had Galorian won? Would he expose Merlin right now in front of everyone? The awful truth hung in the air.

Just as Arthur looked away to face the people behind him, there was a screech through the air.

The short haired kitchen maid, the same one who had handed Merlin the braid and who had told Arthur about Manath, jumped out from where she had entered the tent from the back. Nobody had been watching that side with all the excitement of the finals. She latched onto King Galorian’s back and stabbed at him with a long slender knife, once, twice, three times.

The king shouted out and faltered. The woman proceeded to slash his throat and a spray of blood spilled from his neck over the grasses and over Merlin’s shoes. Galorian fell over, gurgling in his own blood and looked up at her in confusion. It was the last thing he saw as she stabbed his eyes, his throat, and his chest wildly.

All the while Merlin was still attempting to crawl away, to hide behind one of Sir Carsen’s large shields.

Arthur was rushing forward first to try and stop her. Everything had happened so fast that none of the other knights had come into action yet.

The last thing she did was cut through the chain around King Galorian’s neck and throw the small key Merlin’s way. If Arthur saw, he didn’t react.

Arthur tackled her to the ground and off the king and shouted that she was under arrest.

Sir Bedivere and Sir Carsen followed in holding her down. She flailed and screamed for several more moments before calming herself down. The woman looked at all the faces one by one and went limp against the many arms holding her down.

Merlin knew why she had done it, even without fully understanding the situation. Her actions spoke volumes. She had given everything up at that moment. The woman lay there and did not look at Merlin once. She’d _saved_ him. And now she could not look at him for fear of giving him away.

Had she known after all? He tried to look at her for a moment, to thank her. But she would not reach his gaze. She could not! She’d give everything away if she did.

Merlin lay behind the shield and used the small key to finally remove the shackles. The relief that flooded through his body was immediate and he felt light as a feather. He closed the cuffs and stuffed them away under an old piece of cloth to hide them from sight and pocketed the key. The shackles would not be opened again, ever. Then he stuffed the braid back into his jacket.

A hand touched his shoulder. He shifted and looked around. Arthur. To his surprise, Arthur spent the next couple of seconds pulling up Merlin’s breeches up before anyone noticed or asked. “I’m fine!” Merlin protested instantly, indignant that someone had to do that for him.

“Like hell you’re fine,” Arthur muttered. With a rough tug Merlin was pulled to his feet.

Sir Bedivere was informing Sir Leon who had only just arrived at the scene. The woman would be escorted to the dungeons immediately.

Darren stood close to Sir Carsen to wait for more details. Arthur took Merlin by the arm, gently this time, and guided him towards the tent flap. Merlin was unsteady on his feet. They stopped next to Darren.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Arthur said.

Darren looked oddly mollified. He smiled uncertainly at Arthur and then turned to Merlin. “I was afraid too.”

Merlin looked at him. At the boy who had taken his place for the past few days, so that Merlin could be beaten and broken. He realized right at that moment that he might have saved Darren from that fate. If Darren hadn’t followed Arthur around, perhaps Galorian would have sent Darren out for information about Emrys. Merlin was struck by Darren’s honest eyes and found that he couldn’t hate the boy. Not one bit.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” he said softly. “I endured, when someone else could not.” He didn’t mention that he understood. But Darren’s eyes were filled with gratitude. Even Arthur must have noticed. “And thank you,” Merlin said. “For taking such good care of Prince Arthur.”

“I’m standing right here,” Arthur complained.

Despite himself, Merlin grinned and in turn Darren grinned back. Merlin put a hand on Darren’s shoulder before wobbly stepping out of the tent, followed closely by Arthur.

Sir Bedivere yelled, “King Galorian is dead! The tournament is cancelled!”

  
**\-----26 Arthur-----**

The commotion was increasing, more knights were walking towards the tent and Arthur pulled Merlin along to his own tent to be able to talk. He had pulled one of Merlin’s arms over his shoulder and held onto his side with his other arm. It seemed like the distance took forever.

He needed answers _right now_ and each step taken took too long. He had to hold himself back not to push Merlin to walk faster. He had no idea what Merlin had gone through.

The only thing he was certain of was that when Arthur found him, he had likely _just_ been in time. And that had frightened him.

At last they arrived at his tent and found it empty. Arthur checked the entire tent to be sure, cautious after they had just witnessed an assassination. He turned around to Merlin then who still wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Tell me everything. What did he do to you?”

Merlin leaned against the center pole of the tent and looked down at the grass as if he was studying its growth patterns. After a moment he answered, “Nothing that won’t heal.”

“ _Mer_ lin,” he started, but faltered. With an uneven voice he added. “What he was about to—”

“Didn’t happen,” Merlin interrupted him. “You saved me.”

Arthur was stunned for a moment when Merlin’s eyes finally met his. He saw the honesty there, the gratitude. He knew that Merlin was deeply honorable to the core and that this honor had not been broken.

He coughed unsteadily and said, “I suppose it was about time the favor was returned.”

Merlin’s brows raised somewhat and he actually blushed.

It was more than Arthur could handle so he turned away and put down his large sword into the rack and undid his vambraces, or tried to.

It took only three botched attempts before long fingers snaked over, swatted his hands away and took over. It was with a sigh of relief that he followed Merlin’s movements as he resumed his duties as his manservant without words and despite his obvious exhaustion.

His sigh was followed by a small smile tugging on the corner of Merlin’s lips, one Arthur did not miss for once. He realized that all the clues about Merlin had always been there, he had just never taken the time to notice them. And he was starting to learn.

“Thank you,” he said to Merlin when the vambraces were gone.

“That’s my line,” Merlin said quietly, starting with Arthur’s pauldron.

“I mean it though, if you’d stop to listen for a second.” He lifted his arm to get the pauldron properly removed.

Merlin looked affronted, except not really. He looked worn and tired, and bruised and sore.

“Thank you for opening my eyes.”

Merlin paused his work on Arthur’s breastplate. He thought for several moments before answering, “You were never meant to see all those things inside of me.”

Arthur wasn’t sure he understood Merlin fully yet. Whenever he had a new glimpse into his manservant’s new side, he realized how little he really knew him at all. “Well, I’m learning to look. You’ll have to have a bit of patience with me.”

Once Merlin took the breastplate off and turned around to put it away, he stumbled over Arthur’s helmet lying somewhere in the middle of the tent and dropped the breastplate promptly, to prevent himself falling over.

“Some things will never change,” Arthur added with a scoff.

Merlin apologized and picked up the breast plate and the helmet this time, stowing them away in a large willow basket. He looked up at Arthur with his large blue eyes and said, “Things change unexpectedly all the time. You’ve defended me several times now,” his voice hitched in his throat as if it was too much for him to say.

Arthur couldn’t blame him.

“About what I said, before,” Arthur started. “That if anything happened, you should leave.” Arthur watched Merlin press his lips together and his eyes half close momentarily.

Merlin’s hands undid Arthur’s sword belt and put it away without him even breathing.

“I don’t want you to go.”

The small intake of breath as Merlin put the belt away was all the reward he’d hoped for. And then he got more.

Merlin smiled at him. “I don’t want to go.”

They spent the next few minutes in an awkward silence as Merlin undid his greaves and picked up the hauberk that Arthur pooled over his head. It was Arthur’s turn to feel lighter than he had before, as he fumbled with the buttons of his gambeson before shrugging out of it.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d been sweating during the first battles but it showed clearly on his white undershirt. Before he even asked, Merlin had a clean blue shirt laid out over the rack in front of him.

After he changed into the clean shirt, he handed Merlin the dirty one. Just at that moment he noticed Merlin’s wrists and the burns present there.

“What’s that?”

Merlin pulled back hesitantly and stacked the dirty shirt on top of the basket, ready to take it all inside. “You should go and speak with your father. He will need you there when matters are decided about Galorian.”

“ _Mer_ lin, show me what he did to you.” Those few moments of peace between them seemed to have dissipated more quickly than Arthur thought possible. “At least tell me about it, if you won’t show me.”

“It was something used to torture sorcerers. I don’t know exactly what. But this protected me.” He reached into his inside pocket and took out the braid.

“Why on earth do you still have this thing?” Arthur barked.

“Because,” Merlin bit his lip, “whoever Emrys is, he didn’t show to finish the job. I doubt the kitchen maid was the one intended to have it.”

“I never even had the chance to thank her,” Arthur said softly.

“Thank her for what?”

“She told me about the sorcerer, Manath, and his vision.”

Merlin looked down. He knew he was holding that man’s braid in his hand. A braid that must have at one point been an item of pride for him. The lock of hair had not seen sunlight for seven years. It was a braid that was grown inside a dungeon in order to fulfill a goal hundreds of leagues away from where it received its special treatment, in order to rid the world of a tyrant.

“His vision wasn’t entirely correct,” Arthur said. “She was the one who would kill Galorian.”

“Perhaps he knew what he needed to tell her, so that the pieces would be put into place,” Merlin offered.

Arthur looked at him oddly, wondering how Merlin could consider such things one step ahead each time.

He walked over to the pile of dirty clothing and armor and searched around until he heard Merlin cough beside him. Merlin held up his belt and Arthur took it. “Right.”

Merlin urged him, “Go and speak with your father.”

“Yes, I’m heading there now. Don’t you go anywhere.”

Merlin grinned. “You won’t be getting rid of me.”

Arthur opened the tent flap and grinned back. “I should hope not.”

Once outside he felt his face flush and his heart stutter against his chest. What had he just said? _Stop being an idiot!_ And yet a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

He followed the commotion to where a group of people stood. Uther was flanked by several guards and knights so he had the overhand in the conversation.

“….unanimously decided. Ah, Arthur there you are. We need your statement in order to press immediate charges to have Roslyn sentenced to death following the disbanding of the tournament."

Arthur looked at his father first and then to the other knights. He was the only one who had changed out of his armor, except for those who had been defeated. Sir Carsen still stood fully ornate and regarded him gravely. Although the man had just lost his king, Arthur could not pity him.

“My report is as follows: King Galorian was in the tent, I stood opposite him. My sword was in my hand, but I did not and would not use it against a king. I asked him to cease his torture of one of our servants, as it is not the way we execute punishment.”

The crowd around him started to mumble, but Arthur did not pause long enough for anyone to complain.

“Before I had discussed the matter with him, the men came looking for me and stood in the tent beside me. The woman, er, Roslyn, jumped from behind the king and stabbed him. I expect he… expired when his throat was slashed. I believe Roslyn to be from Galorian’s own household. In conclusion, it is my belief too that she should be sentenced to death.”

He spoke clearly and without faltering. The last word was the only one that lost its volume. He had just condemned the woman who had saved both him and Merlin from Galorian’s greedy claws.

Was this justice?

She could not have known all along that she would go this far just to get her revenge. And Manath might have foreseen that she would do it, and never told her the truth of who would kill the king. If he had, she might have never found the courage to do so.

King Uther was pleased, and he put a hand on Darren’s shoulder. Arthur soon learned that as Galorian’s closest relative, Darren had been put in charge of arranging the affairs and the travel home. Sir Carsen was appointed his advisor taking effect immediately and Arthur thought it was mostly done not to offend the man.

Arthur promised he would help if they had questions, but that he was confident they would be capable to resolve everything themselves.

He returned to the castle walking next to his father. King Uther didn’t speak to him until they were well inside the castle, and had retreated to the council chambers and closed the door behind them. It was just the two of them and Holden.

“What really happened, Arthur?” Uther asked him directly.

“I gave you my account a moment ago,” Arthur complained, sounding petulant. “The woman murdered King Galorian.”

“That is not what I am talking about. You raised your sword against a king, Arthur. And there are witnesses.”

Arthur paled somewhat. “I stand behind my motivation, sire. For crimes of inadequate servitude we have the cells, the stocks, and lashes.”

“It will not do, Arthur! The word will spread and my intention to invite five of our neighboring kings for a peace treaty are severely undermined!”

Arthur’s eyes widened.

“Father,” he paused. He could not come up with a lame excuse. King Uther would see right through him. “King Galorian’s persistence and ignoring your direct orders were of great concern to me. If he was willing to forfeit Camelot’s laws so easily, there’s no saying what sort of ally he actually was.”

“If one king and his household cannot be properly received here at Camelot without getting killed—” Holden began. Arthur interrupted him.

“Any king who breaks our laws may expect to face some form of punishment.”

“Is that what this was, Arthur? Punishment?” King Uther narrowed his shrewd eyes.

“I don’t know, ask the woman!” Arthur threw a hand in the air. “He played out his moves exactly as we predicted. I did not lay a hand on the man.”

“We did not predict it though, Merlin did,” Holden remarked.

“Merlin was the one tasked to serve the man,” Arthur growled, glaring as he continued, “and Galorian was about to violate him for it!” he almost spat in Holden’s direction. “Father wouldn’t dream of leaving you to that fate.”

“Arthur,” his father’s voice was calm. “you will not speak for me. We will announce that you were assessing the situation, considering whether Galorian or Merlin were breaking with Camelot’s laws and that you were about to shout for assistance to make formal arrest for Galorian, who was attempting theft.”

“You mean abduction.” Arthur took a step closer to his father.

“We are using the word theft.”

Arthur lowered his head and tried to see if his father was serious. His brow was raised and he regarded Uther incredulously. “Just to save face?”

“To save yours, Arthur. Do you really think I would let word spread across the kingdom of your behavior that would discredit you to our allies?”

Arthur lowered his gaze. He knew he would never convince his father that Camelot’s household comprised of loyal people, real people with names and their own rights to exist. He knew and felt this through and through, but his father did not. To him they were expendable, each and every one.

He began to doubt his earlier words that Uther would not have left Holden to the devices of a man like Galorian. If it would have served to expose magic, Holden would have suffered exactly that.

“Yes, sire," he said and bowed. “I understand fully.”

“Now, Darren has announced that they will leave for Foltaig in the morning. His knights are resting already and their food will be sent to their chambers. There won’t be any feasting tonight. The chest in honor of their participation will be handed over to them first thing in the morning, joined by our deepest sympathies.”

“Darren will not be staying in Camelot?”

“No, he will take up his station at Brooksten Castle, where his uncle reigned and he will be inaugurated on his fifteenth birthday next year. Until then the regents will carry on the rule of the kingdom.”

Arthur looked away. He had come to like Darren, despite the troublesome situations his uncle created. “He will make a fine king.”

“He might. And he might also remember how his uncle was murdered here.”

“Father, Darren feared his uncle. He feared undergoing exactly the same…”

“I realize that,” Uther remarked judiciously. “The boy is free now.”

Arthur nodded and looked away thoughtfully. The afternoon was not yet over and he was drained from the combat, discovering Galorian in Sir Carsen’s tent, and all the face he had to save.

“We can find you another squire, Arthur.”

He looked at his father and bowed his head. “No need, father. I would like to retire. I will make my formal condolences in the morning.”

“They depart at dawn. Right after the hanging.”

Arthur nodded, bowed to his father, and left the chamber. He did not look at Holden as he left. He was not happy with the man’s incessant provocation of Merlin’s role. He already understood that Holden considered Merlin an outsider still, even after two years of service.

He ran a hand through his hair, fighting the fatigue. He was hungry and he needed to clean up.

As he turned the corner of the staircase, and walked into the corridor that led to his room, he saw that Merlin was just entering the room with the willow basket full of cleaned gear. He’d only _just_ finished cleaning them? Arthur shook his head and followed.

The castle was quiet as most people had retreated to their rooms, and Arthur expected an invitation for a wake later that evening to be formally held. He sighed and opened the door, ready to complain.

The first thing he noticed was the large amount of food on the table. There were several pieces of bread, cheese, and a bowl of grapes standing next to a large bottle of wine. There was a large wooden bowl of fresh apples, smaller bowls full of berries, and one steaming dish with what looked like fried eggs.

He noticed the fire in the hearth roaring and that the room was warm.

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. A fresh outfit was lying on the table next to a clean towel and a bath was prepared, steaming, close to the hearth. Several candles were lit throughout the room.

When Merlin heard the door close he spun around with a guilty look on his face, nearly dropping the empty basket, catching it just in time.

Arthur looked at him oddly. Merlin hadn’t been in the room for more than twenty seconds before Arthur had entered.

“Did you just…?” Arthur narrowed his eyes. There was no way the room could be in this state mere seconds after Merlin entered it.

“No! Er… maybe. I asked for food to be brought up.” Merlin shifted his jaw somewhat and looked down at the basket.

Arthur stared at him some more and was rewarded with a slight blush creeping up Merlin’s cheeks. He decided he liked that. Though the fading black eye was still painful to look at and it reminded Arthur of what Merlin had just gone through less than an hour ago.

“Have you eaten at all?” Arthur heard himself ask.

Merlin looked stunned at the very question and for a moment seemed quite uncertain how to answer that. “Not since breakfast.” He looked away.

Arthur pointed at the table. “Then eat. I need to clean up.” He picked up the clean towel and walked past Merlin towards the folding screen to undress. He threw his clothes over the screen, wrapped the towel around his waist, and at last he heard one of the large chairs at the dining table move.

When he emerged he saw that Merlin had finally taken a seat and was eating fast, as if someone would come and take it away any moment.

He walked over to the bath and tested the water, still cautious after being scalded before, but it felt perfect. He took the towel off and sat down into the tub with his back to Merlin.

Merlin was very quiet. There was something Merlin wasn’t sharing with him. He was convinced.

“You don’t need to do this, you know,” Arthur said, scrubbing at his arms and chest.

Merlin shifted in his seat and mumbled something unintelligible.

“You don’t have to work _extra_ hard. Well, not today.”

Merlin snorted while he scarfed down the rest of the eggs, scraping the fork over the plate.

He closed his eyes, sinking into a deep relaxation.

After a good ten minutes, two apples and half a loaf of bread later he heard Merlin let out a deep sigh. He could picture his face as it let go of the tension. He was _imagining_ it now. The shape of his mouth...

“Is there anything we can do for her?” Merlin asked at last.

“I’m afraid there isn’t.” He sat himself straighter in the bath, causing some of the water to slosh over the sides. “There are too many witnesses. Besides, if they would go into deep interrogation, she might—”

“She wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that…”

“She wouldn’t,” Merlin repeated, certain of himself.

He wished he could be as certain of people as Merlin was. He had lived a life following his father’s paranoia and found ghosts and devils in anything that was out of the ordinary. If he was to accept this change within himself, or with regard to people in Camelot, he would need time.

“I have thought about it, Merlin. About the number of times you have had to stand by to watch others be hanged or burned. And how I acted then and how I am expected to act even now. I may disobey my father from time to time but I won’t be able to help those who get themselves caught in Camelot. Even if—”

“She saved my life!”

“Even if I want to,” he finished. He washed his face and added. “She saved mine too. I might have killed him myself.” For a good few moments after that he regretted saying that. What was he _thinking_ revealing this. “It’s out of my power.”

The chair scraped over the stone tiles as Merlin got up. Arthur frowned and thought of a way to stop him if he wanted to leave.

“Merlin, she threw you the key. I saw it myself.” He got up and picked up a towel to dry himself quickly. He kept his back carefully towards his servant and dressed quickly into his clean breeches and clean red shirt. He finished by putting on his necklace with the small red stone and his mother’s ring. When he ran the towel through his hair and turned around, Merlin was still standing at the table, studying the empty plate.

“I want to save her,” Merlin announced softly, turning around to Arthur. There were tears in the corner of his eyes. He was biting back an outburst.

“I think that with everything you did and experienced during the past few days, that’s exactly what you’ve done.” He lowered the towel and looked at Merlin in earnest.

Merlin stared back at him with an odd look in his eyes. He was trying to decipher that look, attempting to figure out what it meant.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Arthur studied him carefully. There was a twitch in his bright blue eyes that he couldn’t miss. He took several steps closer and lowered his head. “There is, isn’t there?”

Merlin leaned back against the table at Arthur’s advance. “It’s not something I can share.”

Arthur regarded his worried look. His first reaction was that he wanted to call him out for being an idiot. As the Prince of Camelot he had always had the right to know, the right to own information. People needed to be honest with him. His knights’ loyalty and honor depended upon it.

Then the pieces clicked together. “You figured it out.” He looked at Merlin with wide eyes.

In turn, Merlin looked at him with wide eyes, and his lips parted for a protested stammer.

Arthur found himself staring. “Roslyn was his fiancée. Before he was captured.” There was just a foot of space between them now and Arthur almost felt Merlin’s heat radiating between them. He had been thinking about Roslyn’s words. She’d never had the chance to have the life she had envisioned together with Manath.

Merlin’s mouth closed again and he turned his head away. Arthur was left studying the tendons in his neck.

What if he had been too late to prevent the same fate from happening to Merlin? What if…?

Arthur pressed his lips together and turned away. He walked to his cupboard barefoot and threw the wet towel in the basket beside it. Or, somewhere in its general vicinity. He threw it on the floor.

He picked out a different belt than he had worn. If only to put some room between them. He’d been selfishly absorbed in his observations.

“In some weeks five kings will come to Camelot to discuss a treaty. Laws will be re-evaluated, borders redrawn, and trade negotiated. Today a king was killed in our very own tournament grounds. That news will spread like wildfire, stories twisting along the way,” Arthur explained calmly, to himself as well.

“She did not deserve what that man did.”

“But she did kill him,” Arthur said softly. “I understand, Merlin. This time I do, trust me.”

Merlin sank back down in Arthur’s chair and started to cry with his head in his hands. Arthur regarded him for some time in astonishment. Not one time had his manservant shown grief over his own situation. He had endured it, he had known how to take a beating—he said so himself— and he had even denied Arthur’s help if it would have interfered with the plans. But he would cry for her.

He let Merlin stay there, near the fire and with all the food out on the table. He retreated behind his own desk and took out some parchment and paper and started to write. They remained in silence which was occasionally broken my Merlin’s sniffles or by the gentle tap of Arthur’s feather pen against his ink well.

After some time Arthur realized that Merlin had actually fallen asleep.

He got up and walked around to confirm. Merlin was fast asleep. He smiled to himself as he regarded him and made his decision. He turned over to his bed and turned down the covers and walked back to carefully lift and carry Merlin over. He undid his shoes, but nothing else, and tucked him in. Then he left the room on his own personal errand.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, now closer to midnight, that he returned with a stack of papers in hand. Merlin had been sleeping for a few hours. Arthur quickly ate some of what was left from the food at the table and drank a goblet of wine. He put some wood on the fire and sat back down in his chair, regarding the bed where Merlin slept.

He watched him, and pondered, leaning on the dining table with one arm and rubbing his fingers over his lips and chin. For the first time ever he felt that he could just look at Merlin without being confronted with one of his rebellious expressions or one of his sharp remarks.

He found his mind wandering to the moment back in the tent when he’d lifted Merlin’s breeches back over his hips and arse. How he had dressed him with detachment, and hadn’t looked, except that he had. He looked now, just at his face, until Merlin stirred at last.

The first thing he did was turn around under the heavy covers. Then plucked at the covers realizing they were not his own.

Arthur simply looked.

Merlin’s eyes opened and after a moment recognized the canopy of the bed. Instantly he was awake and sat upright. His eyes shot to the other side of the bed first, which was empty. Then across the room until he found Arthur sitting and waiting. He was drowsy and his hair was a mess.

“What…?”

“You needed rest.” There was an amused sparkle in his eyes.

Merlin wasted no time getting up and found his shoes on the floor beside him. He stepped into them clumsily and looked guilty. It was then he noticed the small glass box on the table which hadn’t been there before. He looked at Arthur with curiosity.

“You should go get more rest. I’ll tell you in the morning.”

Merlin nodded and straightened his clothes, walked stiffly to the door, turned back once more to look at Arthur and left. All the while Arthur could not keep his eyes off him.

  
**\-----27 Merlin-----**

“Sit still, Merlin,” Gaius ushered him. He was rubbing more salve over Merlin’s bruises and cuts and Merlin was shifting restlessly on the bench. “Dawn is not for another hour.”

“I know, Gaius.” He ate his porridge greedily and thanked Gaius the moment he was finished. “I need to go.”

“Watch yourself, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded at Gaius and left the workroom. He had slept deeply that night at last. Apart from the middle bit when he had awoken in _Arthur’s bed_. He still couldn’t believe he had actually been able to fall asleep a second time after that.

For just a moment he had even dared to wonder if—

But right now he had something else to do. He could feel the salve stick to his clothes but he knew it needed to do its work. He walked through the castle with determination.

From the windows he could see that the central courtyard was filled with horses and carts, and it was bustling with people. He also saw that the hanging platform had been erected overnight for Roslyn.

His hands balled into fists and he descended the staircases towards the dungeons. Unfortunately he immediately saw there were many guards, around twelve or fourteen stationed there. Talking to them was Prince Arthur, already awake and dressed and looking like he had been up for a while.

Had he missed a call somewhere?

Was he not back in service?

One of the guards pointed to him and Arthur turned to look up at Merlin approaching. Arthur seemed happy to see him, which for some reason unnerved him greatly.

Perhaps it was because his heart flew to his throat at the very sight of him. Or because his hair looked tousled still. Or because his sleeves were rolled up in a very time-for-business kind of way.

Arthur turned to him and spoke softly, away from the guards. “I knew you’d come here. We are under strict orders, no one is to talk to her.”

And with those words all the warmth flew from him in an instant. “You can’t make me stay away.”

“I want you to follow me.” He was already going up the stairs.

“No, Arthur.” Merlin stood.

Arthur turned on his heel and walked back down, picking up a torch along the way. He stood close to Merlin so that no one could overhear. “I’ve taken some time to trust you, yeah? This time I need you to trust me.”

Merlin pursed his lips. He knew when he was being manipulated. Arthur had seen through his attempt to speak to her. Perhaps he had found a way to free her after all. He gave him a look full of doubt but nodded.

This time he followed Arthur up the stairs, back to ground level. They walked side by side through the corridor until Arthur turned and ascended another staircase that led to the upper floors. And then another that led them towards one of the lesser used towers above the library.

It was situated as one of the central towers of the citadel and had large open windows. Old bookcases with stuffy piles of books littered the room, as well as fallen books and scrolls. The roof above them was a round tower with a ladder leading up so that a servant could change the flag at the top of the tower from time to time.

“Don’t mind the mess, Geoffrey doesn’t have the strength to climb these stairs anymore.”

“Why am I here, Arthur?” Merlin asked impatiently.

“Because I’ll need the braid.”

Merlin gaped at him for a moment and shook his head. Arthur simply grinned at him with that stupid smirk. Could he stop being a prat for one day and realize that Merlin was in anguish because of Roslyn’s hanging?

Arthur turned away from him and walked over to one of the window sills facing east, where the early light of the sun was bleaching the night away.

There stood the glass box that he’d seen on Arthur’s desk the evening before. There was a long lock of brown hair in it, laid out over a pile of folded papers.

“What is it?” Merlin asked when his curiosity won out.

“Before you get angry with me, you must understand there is still nothing I can do to reverse the sentence. There are simply too many witnesses.”

“Is that hers?” Merlin asked, staring at the lock of hair with wide eyes.

“Yes, she cut it off when he cut his. I figured she might have kept it on her and she told me where to find it.”

Merlin was at a loss for words. He felt his chest constrict. He picked up the glass box and opened it. Inside it lay a long ponytail, bound together with the same black cloth as the braid. The end of her hair had a slight curl to it. They covered a pile of papers with long texts written on them. “What are these?”

Arthur was looking at him intently. “Their story.”

Merlin gasped and frowned. He was taken aback again by the fact that Roslyn would die after saving his life, and after having seen her love take his own life in her arms. “I don’t understand…”

Arthur took the box from him and placed it back on the sill. “Last night when you fell asleep I wrote down what I remembered her telling me. I went down to the dungeons and ordered the guards to let me speak with her. I asked her to tell me the rest of it. It’s all written down.”

When he was asleep… he was trying to process everything Arthur had just said. “What?”

“I cannot help her, Merlin. She sacrificed herself knowing how it would end. She did it to save you, and me. Probably to save all her fellow servants too. But the worst part of a sacrifice is if there is no one to tell the tale afterwards. Our knights receive that service, we write down their feats in the great books.

“For them, there is nothing. One was a sorcerer, the other a kitchen maid. But I realize their story is important. To you, and to others who will read it in time.”

“Can I read it now?”

“No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to read that now, alright? Today you need to say goodbye and to thank her.”

Merlin lifted a hand into his jacket and he took out Manath’s braid where he had hidden it.

Gingerly, Arthur took it from him and put it into the glass box.

Merlin swallowed the lump down his throat.

“I’ve put it here because it faces the sunrise, and because no one comes here.”

Merlin blinked back his tears. “Their story…”

“One day the world will know yours too, Merlin.” Arthur’s look was fierce.

He felt on edge because of it. It stirred something inside of him that needed to stay asleep. Desperately. Something that wanted to hug Arthur, to thank Arthur. That wanted Arthur. He sought for any words that might mean anything, but his brain came up with nothing useful. At length he whispered, “Thank you.”

The sky was starting to change into blue and green hues when Arthur turned towards the stairs.

Merlin wished he could stay here, with Arthur, skip the hanging and the departure and just experience for a moment what Manath and Roslyn had almost shared. But he couldn’t ask that. He had to stop being ridiculous about this.

“It was you who gave me the idea,” Arthur said and left, descending quickly.

He looked again at the glass box. _Facing the sunrise._ Because the sorcerer would not have known anymore how many sunrises he had missed before he found his escape in death.

“Wait, Arthur!” He sped down the stairs after him and caught up to him. Arthur wasn’t pausing though, being his usual pompous self. “Does she know what you did?”

Arthur lifted a brow and looked at him. “She does.”

Merlin fell into step with him and they walked in silence towards the entrance hall and resumed both their duties officially as Galorian’s household gathered around the coffin which had been built for him. Expert craftsmen had spent all night decorating it. The family crest was draped across and Galorian’s sword lay on top of it.

Darren led the way followed by Sir Carsen and Sir Wymer. They were greeted by King Uther and Prince Arthur at the bottom of the steps. Merlin stood next to the rest of the household.

From his place on the stairs he could see how many people from town had gathered to pay their respects to a king who had met his end and to see the woman who had done it hang.

Merlin could not blame them for their interest. They had no idea about the implications or the affairs that had occurred. Darren spoke to Arthur and Uther for some time until the executioner demanded their attention. Four guards brought a calm woman with short brown hair to the stage with the noose.

Merlin looked at her. He looked at Roslyn as he hadn’t really looked at her before. He had feared her for knowing who he was, and had snapped at her friends who were trying to tell him, or to warn him perhaps, about what was happening.

He’d been so afraid to be found out that he had not understood her at all. But he would. Arthur had made sure of that.

This time Roslyn found him in the crowd and looked at him directly. She was pushed to the noose roughly, but she complied entirely. Her head went through it and the crowds started to yell and threw rotten fruits and slurs in her direction.

But Merlin stared at her and at once he saw that she was not a victim, but that she was courageous. She had her victory. Her mouth opened and closed and then the lever was pulled. The crowd roared. All Merlin could think of was what she’d said. ‘Thank you.’

He clasped a hand over his mouth and tried to steady himself. She was gone. All his feelings about Freya bubbled up from a place within he thought he’d shut out. He hadn’t been able to save either of them from death. But they might be free, at last. Roslyn too.

He felt a presence beside him. Lady Morgana smiled at him kindly and offered him her handkerchief. “She was very brave, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he answered. He took the handkerchief but didn’t use it. He bit back his tears, trying not to bawl in public.

“The boy, Darren, he is going to make a good king.”

“I hope so,” he smiled at her.

“I know it.”

Merlin looked up at her curiously and saw her small smile. He answered it with his own and nodded. She had _seen_ it. And now she offered him this small understanding and it made him feel light and happy.

  
**\-----28 Arthur-----**

It was the next day that the rains finally returned with a vengeance and an autumn storm roared over their heads. The tournament grounds had been cleared entirely, and the knights had trained outside until the rain and wind prevented them from even properly exercising their most basic routine. The grounds were now a mud pool.

The first day and a half after the castle had returned to its normal routine Merlin had been instructed to rest with no small amount of pressure coming from Gaius to do so.

Arthur had consented to it even though it meant suffering through George’s humorless, most excellent service and he’d had quite enough of that already. He really wanted to talk to Merlin, but it would have to wait. There were more pressing matters at hand in the form of proper letters to be composed about the recent affairs to be sent to all of the local lords and to all the neighboring kingdoms.

On the second day Merlin served him dinner quietly and he seemed a little better. Far less stressed at least. Of course, Arthur wondered if he was seeing the real Merlin or just what Merlin chose to show him.

He was forced to acknowledge through asking the rest of the staff that his manservant had been quite expertly dodging any questions as to what he’d suffered and generally looked all-round neutral or even a bit cheerful.

Gwen had told Arthur yesterday how they’d joked about pranks they should pull on Darren if he ever came back.

During the third and fourth day Arthur had been entirely occupied with preparations for the upcoming arrival of the five kings which would take another week to prepare. He sat with his father, Holden, Sir Leon, and Sir Kay during most of the day arranging different sections of the wings in the castle to different households, deciding who would be best suited to be neighbors.

After a difficult afternoon’s discussion they had succumbed to sending several of the lower ranking knights to stay in one of the nearby taverns on account of still not having enough rooms available to prevent trouble breaking out. This time there would be five smaller household staff groups, and Arthur thought Holden might actually crack from the stress of it all this time around.

The rains persisted and they were now stuck indoors until the weather cleared. The knights instead entertained themselves with history tutoring from a very reluctant Geoffrey or drinking and dice games.

Arthur had no such luck and he was set to do paperwork. After several hours of copying letters of laws and regulations, ordering food, commissioning brand new furniture and linens and stockpiles of candles he was in desperate need of entertainment.

Merlin walked in right at that moment with a pile of linen sheets and dumped it on to an old chest beside Arthur’s cupboard. Arthur held his breath and felt his skin prickle. He sensed himself being pulled into several directions at once as if an invisible version of him had already leapt up at the chance to greet Merlin, but another version of him stayed seated in the hopes not to be noticed and just to be able to look.

His heart was doing strange things to him and he could no longer shrug it off as being the stress of the incoming invasion of kings. He had to admit to himself that it was something more.

He struggled to think of something to say, something that would keep Merlin here and alleviate him from his boredom. But he no longer trusted himself around his manservant either. He already knew what he wanted. He _wanted_ Merlin.

In light of the recent assault from King Galorian he knew it was the worst possible feeling to be coursing through him, making him sweat instantly upon seeing Merlin, even if he was just passing in the corridor. His body was alert.

Merlin moved away from the pile of linen to put away Arthur’s shoes where they should be, as well as his socks and most of Arthur’s clothes that had been strewn around the general direction of his wardrobe. Then something about the linens caught his eye.

Arthur frowned. “Are those wet, Merlin?”

“I had to cross the courtyard…” The top of his brown jacket was wet too and so was his hair. He looked at Arthur with a guilty smile. Arthur licked his lips.

“Well… do something about it, will you?”

He noticed how Merlin raised a fine eyebrow. “Oh, it’s so easy for you to say that now. You’re still feeling guilty.”

“Guilty about what?” he challenged. He couldn’t decide right now if he’d prefer Merlin’s or George’s service. Merlin always came up with this stuff, but if he continued with this cheek he would at some point have to _do something_ about it. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

“For all of this I had to suffer,” Merlin said as he pointed at the green and yellow fade on his left cheek. “And all the rest.”

Arthur pursed his lips and a pang of guilt did indeed spread across his chest. It was absurd. He hadn’t even done anything. Merlin had no idea how he’d suffered through watching Merlin’s abuse. “I thought you said I saved you from that… Besides, if you hadn’t done such a piss-poor job…”

“You’ve clearly been talking to Holden too much.” Merlin turned around and walked back to the linen. Several seconds later he walked away and Arthur noticed that the top sheet was dry. Merlin hadn’t dried himself though.

“He was less than courteous with regard to you.”

“He’s threatened for me to go out on errands all day. Except that he can’t find me.”

Arthur wondered what that was in Merlin’s voice. “What do you mean?”

“He just misses me in the hallway… all the time.” Merlin looked down and small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Arthur put down his feather pen. “Are you…?”

“Your sheet is dry, isn’t it?” The warlock still looked uncomfortable to speak about it. But there was a glint in his eyes.

Arthur came to the sudden realization that he was prideful of his skills.

“Merlin, that’s… brilliant. I’ve been bored all day. You will show me how you pull pranks.” He got up from his desk and his eyes were full of cheeky enthusiasm.

“What? No!”

Arthur had never considered Merlin’s pride. The only things he had acknowledged were his subversive use of magic within Camelot, probably in his very own presence, and the stacks of inevitable lies.

But also the daily risks he ran. He knew Merlin was deeply loyal, honorable, and selfless. Perhaps in this he was more chivalrous than any man he knew. Merlin too had his pride, endlessly kept in check just like everything else.

It was part of the reason Arthur had such difficulty thinking of anything else whenever he had a moment’s rest.

“You’re already doing it, aren’t you?” Arthur lifted an eyebrow and noticed the change in Merlin’s expression. There was something there. Something he couldn’t explain. Why was Merlin such a mystery to him? What more was he hiding?

Merlin huffed. “I don’t just… I mean, you can’t be asking me that.” He looked at Arthur as if he’d gone insane. “You _hate_ magic…”

“Perhaps not all kinds of magic.”

“Are you ill?”

“No, _Mer_ lin. But the rains are driving me mad and I have a bone to pick with Holden for throwing you out to the scavengers.”

  
**\-----29 Merlin-----**

Arthur had been held indoors for far too long, Merlin decided. It was resulting in all sorts of strange behavior, like _thinking_ for a change. This had effectively driven him mad, it was the only explanation Merlin could come up with.

He considered it, though. There were subtle things he might be able to do, but he’d have to be extremely careful about it. Besides, it was _Arthur_ asking him. He hoped with all his might that this meant Arthur was trusting him again. He’d been fidgety around the prince ever since the Foltaig royal household went on their way home.

For the past few mornings he had woken up in a state and ended up stroking himself to the image of Arthur hugging him, comforting him, or tugging at his breeches. Only this time not to pull them up but to pull them down. Everything about Arthur felt protected and safe, and it was a niche he had gladly escaped to. Getting this relief had made his days vastly more bearable.

During his working hours he was daydreaming. It was easy when Arthur had a full day of training to attend, court sessions, or piles of work to do. Nobody talked to Merlin while he worked and his mind reigned free.

“Well?” Arthur asked.

Merlin gulped. He looked into Arthur’s eyes once and felt any resistance crumble. Here was Arthur Pendragon asking him to do magic. To show him what he could do, even if it was something small and meaningless. Something without consequence.

“I’m not a court jester,” he complained.

Arthur frowned and lowered his chin. “No, you’re not.”

He broke away the gaze once more, feeling hot and chilled at the same time just from their eye contact. He needed something to take his mind off where his thoughts were taking him. “Okay, just once.”

Arthur’s face split into a juvenile grin and he was at the door in a second. Merlin followed him with a small nauseous feeling in his belly. This was probably a bad idea.

He glanced at Arthur’s grin and corrected himself. This was _definitely_ a bad idea.

They walked through the corridors and toward the hall near his father’s tower. It was around lunch time and Merlin suspected that Holden would bring him his tray of food soon. He looked around and found a perfect place for them to overlook the corridor from the other side, hiding behind a wall which had a small window for them to look through.

“In here. He will show up soon. I think," he said and Arthur followed him.

They stood side by side and Merlin gulped when Arthur’s thigh touched his so that they could both look out from the same window. “Are you sure about this?” There was nobody here at this time of day and the corridors looked marvelously peaceful.

Arthur stood slightly hunched next to the small window and turned to Merlin. “Yes, I’m sure. Now all we have to do is wait, right?”

They waited for several minutes. The warlock worried his lip and wrung his hands. It was all he could do to not call it off, excuse himself and return to his room to help himself. He looked composed, but God he wasn’t. His mind drifted until Arthur nudged him with his elbow.

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know. He’s going to come with a lunch tray for your father. I think I’ll mess with that first. He’s too much of a perfectionist—”

“Shh… there he is.”

Merlin’s heart thudded in his chest and he looked out through the small window. He cast a spell so that neither of them would be seen through it with the smallest whisper. Then he lifted his hand and pointed towards the tall glass of white wine on the tray.

“ _Sha’érruth-lenn_ ,” he whispered. The stem of the wine glass bent and its bowl tilted. Each step that Holden took sloshed wine over its edge. Holden stopped walking.

Beside him Arthur tensed.

Holden continued to walk and the wine sloshed again, spilling over the side. He stopped.

There was a pile of grapes on one of the plates and Merlin decided that several grapes would be just ripe enough to let go of their stem now. “ _Álderru fóu’tæl_.” The next step Holden took sloshed more wine and several grapes broke loose, rolled over the tray and onto the ground, rolling in various directions.

Arthur was watching it intently, huffing lightly through his nose.

“Watch the staircase,” Merlin whispered.

Holden continued to walk very carefully with the tray. He took large, slow steps to avoid any more of the wine spilling, which it still did. Another random grape disappeared off the edge of the tray entirely.

Merlin pointed, whispered something under his breath and raised one of the steps of the small staircase leading up to the servant’s entrance to King Uther’s room. There were just four steps but the second one was now a full inch higher than it had been.

With Holden’s intense concentration on the tray, he stepped on the first. Lifted his foot. And with confidence of a thousand ascents committed to memory, kicked against the second step without hesitation, effectively sending the whole lunch, tray and all, through the air. It landed with a loud clang on the ground beside him. The warm ham and molten cheese were stuck against the king’s wooden door and slowly sliding down.

Arthur burst out laughing and Merlin felt a shock go through him when the sound reverberated through the hall. Holden was looking in their general direction in anger.

“Damn! We’ve got to move!” He pushed Arthur aside and they started running away from Holden’s spectacle. In the distance they heard him yell ‘ _Guards_!’

Had he seen anything?

Arthur was still laughing as they sped down several staircases, turned corners at random, and narrowly avoided a squire carrying several helmets stacked high. They could hear footsteps in the distance of guards trying to figure out who was running away and in which direction.

They ran further down into the dungeons and turned towards the treasury. Even there the guards’ footsteps were audible, and it sounded like they were closing in on them. They had to find somewhere to hide.

“They’re going to catch us.” Merlin’s eyes were wild. He was laughing but he was also nervous and jittery. This had been _such_ a bad idea.

“In here!” Arthur dragged him into a narrow passage, which they discovered shortly after was blocked with a pile of stacked and stored boxes, barrels and crates full of things nobody seemed to have used for decades and all of which were covered in coarse musty rags.

There did not seem to be any way through. “We’re trapped…”

Merlin shushed him. The guards were just around the corner now. Their footfalls thundered heavily, which made it sound like there were a great many of them. Merlin lifted his hand towards the passageway and spoke, “ _Heisámn þúraksten seiþ clodeícht!_ ” His eyes glowed gold and a thin web spread across the opening of the narrow passage.

He spoke again, “ _Nic’þ ouriéþ evhánn_.” Again his eyes glowed and this time a soft wave of air blew against them.

He took a step backwards and leaned against the wall as several guards came running past. He counted seven, eight… more than ten. When he looked at Arthur, he saw the other was regarding him curiously.

“It looks like bricks now from the other side. And they can’t hear us,” Merlin whispered. A single torch on the opposite wall in the corridor where the guards had just marched was their only source of light.

“Your eyes…” Arthur said. He tilted his head, staring at Merlin curiously.

Merlin raised his eyebrows and he realized that this was the first time Arthur had actually _looked_ at him performing magic. Merlin’s lips parted to say something but no words came out. It seemed that Arthur didn’t mind at all that he saw magic in action. That his curiosity had won out over his fears. Merlin felt lightheaded and his breath trembled.

A voice boomed beside them suddenly, startling them both. It yelled, “There’s no one here, go back the other way!” The man was standing right outside their narrow passage and turned on his heel. Not a single glance was spared in their direction. One by one they saw the guards jogging back. They watched in amusement and when the last one left it turned quiet.

They looked at each other briefly and burst out laughing again. Merlin heard Arthur laugh in earnest this time, a rich, free booming sort of laugh that he hadn’t heard in a long time. It meant everything to him.

“The look on his face,” Arthur chuckled.

Merlin held a hand over his belly, not just from laughing. His heart thudded loudly in his chest and his insides were jumping around and having a party of their own. His knees felt weak.

“Do something else, anything,” Arthur instructed him, pointedly looking into his eyes. Merlin was grateful for the dim light over them because Arthur would not see the furious blush that covered his cheekbones.

He steadied himself against the cold stone wall behind him feeling giddy. How could Arthur know he would do _anything_ for him?

“ _Hætende_.” His eyes glowed once more and Arthur saw the flash of magic through them.

“What did you do?” His deep voice was soft and his lips formed an inquisitive smile.

“I warmed the stones of the wall behind me.” Merlin heard his own voice quiver and hoped that Arthur didn’t notice. Everything about this close vicinity was overwhelming him; the way Arthur’s hair shone in the torchlight, the way his red vest opened at the neck, the way the corner of his lips were curling _up_ when he did magic.

Arthur lifted a hand and placed it on the wall beside Merlin’s head and smiled curiously. And Merlin felt on fire, with Arthur standing over him in their hidden passage. Arthur was staring at him and trying to figure him out. Looking for something in his eyes. It couldn’t just be his imagination, could it? He sought for words to pretend once more that there was nothing going on and that they had to get back to their duties. Anything to settle his mind and his heart. He opened his mouth to say something, to break their proximity.

Whatever he might have said got drowned away when Arthur suddenly leaned in and kissed him, once, twice, lightly and experimental.

Merlin was stunned. His eyes went wide and his lips parted. His hand had instinctively come up to touch Arthur’s side and was holding a fist full of his shirt. He didn’t even dare to breathe during those seconds, his eyes straining to find answers in Arthur’s eyes. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Arthur was a clotpole and a blockhead.

Arthur looked at him with difficulty and paled. He pulled back and straightened up at Merlin’s silence. He dropped his hand from the wall. Arthur spoke, “Did I make a mistake?” His voice trembled.

Merlin watched as something in Arthur’s expression broke. And he could not stand to see it.

“No!” Merlin was finally free from his shock. He moved forward predatorily and cupped Arthur’s face, pressed his lips against the prince’s and kissed him furiously, taking from his mouth what he desperately needed.

Arthur had clearly not expected the aggression and his hands clasped first on Merlin’s shoulders, then pulled him in further until their bodies were wholly touching.

Merlin’s worked his mouth against Arthur’s who replied with a muffled groan. Merlin purposefully pushed a tongue between his lips. He was answered with a deep, passionate kiss.

Arthur leaned in further and pressed Merlin back up against the warm wall. Merlin turned Arthur’s rough and hungry kisses into something more controlled, something he could wrap his head around. Their tongues struggled for control until their lungs complained for air.

Merlin’s experienced hands groped along his shoulders and chest, and snaked their way down around Arthur’s hips and pressed them together hard. Merlin had needed this more than he could express. His body was on fire from grinding against him. He felt his cock getting hard at an odd angle in his breeches, but he also felt _Arthur_ ’s grinding against his thigh.

Arthur gasped and pulled back from the kiss.

 _Why?_ Merlin thought. It was too good. It was all heat. He only realized at that moment, when his brain started working again, that his longings were answered. Was it just a trick?

“Wait,” Arthur whispered. His hands pushed Merlin back. Merlin disobeyed, his right hand reached out to cup Arthur’s growing erection through his breeches and he stroked with intent. Arthur threw his head back and closed his eyes. His lips parted and he sucked in a deep breath. Merlin’s eyes were transfixed on that sensuous expression, it was a vision in itself. How he had wanted that, and so much more.

“Stop!” Arthur called out again and Merlin pulled his hand back as if he was burned. Was this not good then? Was it a trick?

“Merlin, I’m sorry.”

Merlin’s heart filled with alarm.

“I can’t do this. I mean, even if I wanted. My responsibilities…” Arthur’s voice trailed off as he stared at Merlin, looking over every inch of his face. Merlin frowned, hurt. Arthur was still panting from Merlin’s touches, his burning cock taut in his trousers.

Merlin sighed. He understood. He’d always understood the importance of duty and secrecy. He took a deep breath and leaned back, away from Arthur, increasing what small distance there was. He closed his eyes and relaxed his face. He could _do_ this like he’d done before. Forget himself. Even if his heart was racing wild, he could master his expression. He put a small neutral smile on his face as if he had returned to normal. “Of course, sire.” His voice was light, but his heart was wrecked on the inside. He had had a taste and it was now sealed away once more. Arthur _wanted_ him too, but it couldn’t be.

It was more than Arthur could handle, he wasn’t prepared for events like this. He frowned at Merlin and shook his head. “What—? How can you just say yes?”

Merlin’s smile dropped in confusion.

Arthur continued, “How can you just look at me like that, with that face as if it’s not important?”

Merlin lowered his head and looked up at Arthur through his lashes, dead serious. His hand grabbed Arthur’s collar, more to steady himself. “You have no idea how important this is.” It was his true voice and his true self. Merlin saw that Arthur realized it too. He did not remove Merlin’s hand from his shirt.

Merlin took another deep breath. “I have exposed myself to you now in every possible way. And any claim I might have wanted for myself is denied, forbidden…” His gaze pierced deeply into Arthur’s and the prince’s hurt look softened remarkably. Merlin relaxed and stood upright again. He let go of Arthur’s shirt.

He now understood what lay behind Arthur’s sentimental response towards Roslyn’s fate. It had been for him… could it really be true? The prince said nothing, so Merlin added, “I can do it. I can.” He sighed. “I will…” Arthur looked as wrecked as he felt. Merlin continued, “This face, this expression has saved me many times. I already understand that you must marry, produce an heir, and always appease your father. So, whatever you ask of me, I w—”

He was cut short in his selfless speech by Arthur leaning in and kissing him urgently. The prince’s hand reached into Merlin’s hair, his other strong arm pulling around Merlin’s back drawing him closer into his embrace.

“God, Merlin. Your lips…” Arthur murmured against him.

Merlin couldn’t help himself and grinned into the kiss with a light chuckle, hugging Arthur tightly against his own body. They held on to each other as if their existence depended on it. They kissed furiously until their lips felt crushed and bruised.

 _What am I doing?_ Merlin asked himself. Flashes of panic shot through his mind, but each time a coherent image threatened to sort his thoughts, Merlin was swept away once more by how _good_ Arthur’s mouth felt and how hot Arthur’s body was against his.

They broke their kiss but stayed as they were. Arthur leaned his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder and they stood like that for the longest time, listening to each other’s deep breath, feeling each other’s warmth and steady heartbeat. Their arms were wrapped tightly around the other. They both knew this moment would end.

No guards had passed by for a while now, and even if they had none could have seen or heard them.

“I would do anything for you,” Merlin said softly. “You know that already.” The prince sighed in acknowledgement and frustration. “If that means returning to normal duties, that too.”

“I know,” Arthur whispered.

  
**\-----30 Arthur-----**

“Go,” Merlin suggested. He looked Arthur up and down and adjusted his shirt along his belt, to cover him up better. “I will follow in some minutes. They will have prepared your lunch by now.”

Arthur couldn’t possibly imagine how lunch was important right now. He let Merlin fuss over his shirt. “Right.”

“Go!” He looked once more at Merlin’s lighthearted expression. Except for his eyes, he noted. Their expression was real.

He left quickly before he could change his mind. He looked back only once to see nothing but walls on both sides.

Everything was a jumble in his head. He felt elated at being answered in his private need and yet his heart was heavy with the weight of his duties.

He had never acknowledged any of it openly, it would never be accepted for a man in his status. He would have to start learning to mask his expressions as well as Merlin did. For the longest time he had put off any of his personal desires. And he’d been successful at it too.

Each time his father had presented him with the prospect of a future bride the very thought made him shudder. He would have to overcome this and do what his father said. But it was against everything his body told him. What it shouted to him right now.

He had planned to keep everything as it was. To keep himself in check and to avoid doing anything at all. He had been convinced it was not meant for him to be so lucky to have his desires answered.

But he had started _looking_ at Merlin. He’d started watching him and over the past few weeks he had grown convinced that it wasn’t just his gratitude for saving him from King Galorian. It wasn’t just his body or spirit recovering.

It was in the look in his eyes that he gave Arthur when he showed him the small glass box. It was in the cheeky retort when he had dried the sheets, or in the way he would fidget every time Arthur came physically close to him.

He’d let himself believe that perhaps there was something there.

And today he died.

Just for a moment he had felt everything in his body stop when Merlin did not answer his kiss. How he had looked away a moment earlier when his hand was planted on the wall beside him. How the light had played over his cheekbones to highlight them, how it had marked out the dimples in his cheeks. The curve of his lips. His lips.

And then Merlin had just stared at him as if Arthur had slaughtered his favorite roan.

Arthur turned up the stairs and back towards his room, passing several people in the hallway including Holden who he didn’t spare a second glance. Whatever the man might have been chasing, it was gone now and work had resumed.

He ascended the stairs and when he got into his room at last he locked it, leaned against the closed door, let out a long sigh, and looked up at the ceiling.

Had he made a terrible mistake? Had he taken advantage of his station and coaxed something out of Merlin only to have it chained away? Had he done it just to see, just to confirm if his suspicions were true only to cruelly put himself in control of the situation by saying no? He couldn’t find the right answer. There was no one to ask. No one to guide him.

He sensed Merlin’s plight deeply. How he had confessed that it was real and that he understood the importance of duty. It only raised him in Arthur’s esteem even more and made him _want_ him even more. For Merlin it was real, he understood that much.

For a moment he had witnessed Merlin’s pride at what he could do. He had seen his eyes glow gold. Something seemingly unstoppable had taken shape inside of his heart and it both excited and terrified him.

And Merlin had answered him with a far greater passion and aggression than he had ever expected. For all that Arthur had locked up inside of him, Merlin had seemed to match it and even exceed him. He felt a small pang of jealousy that Merlin was far more experienced than him and he knew what he wanted. Arthur did not.

He stepped away from the locked door at last, and walked uncomfortably towards his desk. He was still hard and in ever so much need. Whatever work was laid out on the table, it couldn’t interest him. He threw himself onto his desk chair, lowered his breeches, and grabbed an unused ink cloth.

Nothing would satisfy his mind right now than to imagine that he _hadn’t_ stopped Merlin when he had. That he might have taken a better look at Merlin under that ridiculously large shirt of his. And in those oversized breeches. What Merlin might have done with his mouth. He stroked himself for a pathetically short time before coming with a shudder into the piece of cloth.

It would take the tension off at least, he thought. It would put his mind at ease and allow him to actually think about the situation. He fixed himself up and walked over to the other side of the room to throw the cloth into the fire, then quickly washed his hands in the basin.

The tension wasn’t gone though, not properly. The anguish in his heart had filled its place instead and he found himself so entirely distracted that he didn’t notice anyone knocking on the door until it became a loud thump.

He unlocked the door and saw Sir Kay,  Sir Caridoc, Sir Owain, and Sir Bedivere standing outside in the hallway. His eyes widened. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing has,” Kay answered. “That’s the problem.” He barged into Arthur’s room followed by the other knights.

Arthur let them in and they all took a seat around his dining table. Within seconds the bowl of apples was placed somewhere else, as were the ornate candle holder and the empty dish from that morning’s breakfast. These were replaced with tankards of ale and decks of cards.

Arthur regarded them for a moment sternly with crossed arms, then he grinned. “How long did it take you to get thrown out of the library?”

“Too long,” Bedivere complained. “I couldn’t feel my arse.” They all laughed. Sitting inside for several days with high winds and horizontal rains did nothing good for these men.

“Besides,” Owain added, “we need a third player in our team. What do you say, Arthur?”

“I’m not gambling, I’d be disowned.”

“Just a round of cards, an honest game.” Owain offered him up the deck.

“It’s not honest if you’re playing, Owain,” Bedivere grinned. They all laughed and Arthur decided to join them for some rounds before he would kick them out. Gambling or not, these were not habits his father condoned.

While they were in the middle of their first round, Merlin came in with a tray of lunch and placed it on the table beside Arthur. He looked up and thanked him, but Merlin had turned around already and was exiting the room.

Just like that.

He hadn’t even seen his expression.

Arthur struggled to comprehend everything for a moment, but he was brought back to reality by five knights digging into his food and him trying to prevent that from happening.

They played several more rounds, joking and calling each other out on cheating, when suddenly the door opened again. Arthur spun around to see.

It was Sir Leon.

“You bastards…” he stared at them.

The men grew quiet.

Sir Leon entered the room eyeing the spectacle of drinks, cards, and food strewn over the table. “Well? Deal me in!”

Hilarity ensued and it was over four hours later when Arthur hadn’t been looking that they had been served a tray full of warm dinner. Enough for all of them. And he’d missed it.

He was pretty sure all of them missed it, if he judged their grateful discovery and hungry fingers diving for the best parts of roasted meats, steamed and spiced vegetables, and fish cakes with a side of freshly made breads still warm from the oven.

As the evening went on the cards were put away and the men talked some about their history lessons and joked about Geoffrey, the old librarian, and how tediously he could explain things to them. They retold the stories of the Saxons, Picts, Jutes, and the Romans in their own words with far more bravado.

Not all of the knights could read equally well and the retellings served to ensure the lessons were properly remembered.

The clock turned the day into tomorrow and the ones who were still left, Sir Leon and Sir Bedivere, talked with Arthur quietly about state affairs, happenings in town, and about the oncoming winter.

Not two minutes after the last one of them had left, Merlin was at the door with a pile of cleaned clothes, at the top of which lay a new night shirt for him to put on.

Arthur was piling up the plates from the table and ignored him as his manservant tended to the fire, picked up pieces of fallen food off the floor lest they get rats, and trotted over to the bed to turn it down. And all as if it was any other day.

Except it wasn’t and they really needed to sort it out.

Arthur gulped. He had a slightly warm feeling in his belly from the ale and it made him feel that he could take the risk. But Merlin wouldn’t look at him.

“Would you like to turn in, sire?”

Arthur furrowed his brow. Was it because of the knights? Did Merlin think he’d replaced him with better company? He put the pile of plates down and wiped his hands on his shirt. “I, uh, yes, I think I will.”

Merlin went to fetch the night shirt. Out of habit Arthur walked to his wardrobe and felt Merlin’s deft fingers undo his belt, tug on his leather vest until it was off his shoulders, and pull his red shirt over his head. Heavy rain pattered against the window. He lifted his arms and put the night shirt on. That was normal. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about this.

Except that Merlin wasn’t meeting his gaze and it was _killing him_.

“That’ll be all," he said. The next thing Merlin would do, normally, was undo his breeches. If Merlin enforced the distance between them, he would respect that. This time though, Merlin’s eyes connected with his. They were searching something in his. He stared back.

And his resolve was gone instantly. It wasn’t something he’d just dreamed up, it had actually happened earlier that day.

And it hadn’t disappeared. It was right there for him to see.

He took a step forward, intent to make his wishes known but Merlin matched it with a step back.

Merlin’s lips were parted and he looked hesitant.

All Arthur wanted to do was plant certainty on those lips. But Merlin wasn’t having it.

“Won’t you talk to me at least?” he demanded. No, he begged.

Merlin turned away and put the worn red shirt away to be washed and hung Arthur’s belt over the folding screen. He watched Merlin, unmoving and hypersensitive to any sounds, as the change in light shined on his features and even the surrounding temperature cooled when Merlin was out of his reach.

“Yeah. Talk is good,” Merlin said vaguely. “Tomorrow.”

And with those words he exited and left Arthur standing.

  
**\-----31 Merlin-----**

Merlin knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

He entered Lady Morgana’s chambers carrying a small parcel which contained several small potion vials. It was early morning and Morgana was dressed in her night shirt, covered by a warm dressing gown and a blanket over that.

She looked around nervously and waited for Merlin to close the door behind him. The rains and winds had not abated and were still pattering down thickly against the darkened windows at this early hour of the morning.

Morgana was seated in front of her vanity. She closed the ring box where she normally chose what she would wear that day. She had not chosen any.

Merlin noted absently that she was wearing the bracelet that did not belong among her regular stock of jewelry.

“Good morning, Lady Morgana. Gaius told me to bring—” he started cheerfully.

“Hush, I don’t think the guards approve of a visit this early.”

Merlin nodded and stepped over to her quietly. He offered her the potion vials. They were filled with a brown-greenish liquid which looked none too pleasing. “I hope this illness is nothing serious. The weather has been awful.”

She smiled at him with a furrowed brow. “I will be fine in a few days. I do not know why I should get sick like this.”

“You’ve looked radiant lately,” Merlin assured her.

She looked at him curiously. “I don’t even want to know what you mean by that, do I?” He shrugged and stood beside her helplessly. “More importantly, how are you?”

Merlin blinked and smiled cheerfully. “I’m well, my lady.”

“Except that you’re not really,” she turned to him. “Merlin, I haven’t seen you since Foltaig’s party was here. What they did to you was terrible.”

Merlin looked down for a moment. “It’s almost all healed, Morgana.”

“Nonsense!” The sharpness with which she expressed herself threw him off guard. She pointed at the small chair beside the vanity and it was more than clear that he had to sit down. “I know part of what happened, the part that is talked about. But what _really_ happened, Merlin?”

“I’m not sure what you know, to be honest,” he deflected, sitting down and placing his elbows on his knees.

She smiled lightly and carefully studied him. She would understand his caution. “He treated you like his personal toy. He locked you up and ordered you around. You had to do exactly as he said or the consequences would be severe.”

Merlin lowered his head. He took a while to take in what she said. “We’re not just talking about me, are we?”

Morgana was taken aback at that. She huddled the blanket more closely around her shoulders. Her eyes lingered for a moment on her expression in the mirror. “I’m not quite ready to discuss that yet.”

He nodded and wrung his hands together. “It was like you said. He beat me whether I did right or wrong, basically. I think it was just that…”

Morgana sighed at him. “I see.” Her eyes narrowed.

He wondered if he’d said something wrong. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her everything. “Morgana, why are you asking me this?” he ventured.

She held her left hand around her right wrist, the one without the bracelet. She circled it with her middle finger and thumb, rubbing it as if it had hurt. “I’m not sure. I felt a terrible pain and I thought it was yours. I was convinced…”

Merlin shifted in his seat. He frowned and put his hands between his knees. “There were many bruises, it takes Gaius about half an hour just to cover them all.” His smile was small.

“I already saw them, Merlin.” She frowned at him and shivered lightly. “I saw the pain he would make you go through. I sent Gwen to look for you, or to find Arthur.”

Merlin shivered and looked down. He didn’t want to be reminded of that. He shrugged off the warning that the Great Dragon had given about her true nature. The warnings Gaius gave him if he talked to her about her magic.

“You believe me, don’t you?” she pleaded at him with her large round eyes.

He nodded.

“Thank you,” he said softly, avoiding her question.

“It’s not about that,” she hissed. “Why didn’t you come to me when you knew King Galorian was a sorcerer?”

He looked up too quickly. His eyebrows high on his forehead. He gaped once or twice.

Morgana continued, “Even if I could not have given any proof, I could have persuaded Uther to consider him. He was paying all sorts of attention to me, you know.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course I would! Merlin, there are many people who care for you here. You didn’t come to ask for help once. Next time I demand you come to talk to me or Gwen about it.”

As he continued to gape at her, she took his hand and covered it with her other hand. She pulled her eyebrows together in a worried look. “Maybe next time I can tell you something useful when it actually matters. I know no one else would listen.”

“That’s not true, Morga—”

“Not that what I say is _going to_ happen.”

Merlin bit his lip.

There were so many reasons for Gaius to be upset with him already. He was desperate to get away from this. And yet, Gaius was _wrong_ sometimes. Even Arthur stood up to his father when he believed something to be wrong.

“Yes. What you have, it’s a gift. I know you have to hide it.” He shivered as he told her this. His body not quite ready to forget the consequences of punishment, which had been beaten into him so recently.

“I get so scared sometimes, Merlin.”

He ventured with a small voice, “The only reason to be scared is when you don’t know what it is, or what it does.”

She squeezed his hand at his words, her knuckles turning white. “Sometimes I see a city in flames. And I don’t know why.”

He wanted to appease her. He wanted to comfort her that Galorian was dead. She might continue to believe he was a sorcerer, she might live with that knowledge and with the satisfaction that he was dead. But Merlin could not contribute to these lies. They did not matter. Galorian _was_ dead. So he did not respond.

“What if you could learn about it in secret? Just… just enough to make sure you wouldn’t give yourself away?” He settled his stomach just enough to steady himself and squeezed her hand comfortingly in return.

“How could I do that? It’s too dangerous!”

“I know, I know. But I feel terrible seeing you like this.”

She laughed at him. “I was supposed to cheer you up, remember?” They both grinned.

Merlin looked away for a moment and set his jaw. “I know very little of these things but I might be able to get a scroll your way from one of the really old books. If you can find a place to read it in secret. It might not be the right thing, and it might not even be true. I have no idea. Would you read it?”

There was a knock on the door and Prince Arthur barged in without waiting for a reply. He was fully dressed already in a thick layer of autumn clothes that would keep him warm.

Morgana and Merlin pulled their hands back immediately. The overbearing look on Arthur’s face at both of them somehow changed the room temperature to something subzero.

“Lady Morgana, I heard you were unwell. Today is supposed to be your first day on… on the council. I wanted to know if you are going to attend or if you want your papers brought… here.” During Arthur’s hesitation, Merlin got up from his seat, and passed Arthur in the doorway.

“Merlin!” Morgana called after him. He turned around, standing right behind Arthur in the doorway. Their proximity was nearly intoxicating but there was nothing he could do about it. Arthur had not moved inside yet. Morgana continued, “Please thank Gaius for his medicine.” As she said so, she nodded twice. He bowed to her and left. He understood.

Whatever Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana would discuss now would be private to them. It was not for him to hear. He hurried down the hall. He was not ready to talk to Arthur, not yet.

It wasn’t the first time that Arthur had dressed himself and wandered the castle during the early morning. Before his first meal of the day even. But today it mattered because he hadn’t expected it at all. He’d been prepared to wake Arthur up, to find him half asleep and do the talking. He had rehearsed it in his mind. Which was _stupid_ , but he wanted to say the right things and he had no idea how.

He decided against checking whether the kitchens had prepared Arthur’s breakfast yet. Instead he walked purposefully down to the dungeons. His face was set in work mode and no one questioned or stopped him. He descended further down the catacombs and down to an abandoned open fence where he entered the caves below the citadel.

“Great Dragon, where are you?” He hadn’t asked the dragon for anything in a long time. And he didn’t know whether he could ask for advice anymore or whether that trust had been entirely broken by now.

There was a gust of wind and the dragon’s wings blew dust and sand in Merlin’s face as the creature landed on the large rock in front of the overhanging cliff.

“What is it, young warlock?” The dragon sounded snippy.

“I need to know about seeing the future. What do you know about it?” he challenged the dragon but he remained in the door opening. He wasn’t certain what sort of mood he would get from the dragon today and it frightened him.

“What is this about?”

“Can you do it?” he demanded.

“I have foreseen some things. But these things do not matter if they fall on deaf ears.”

“Can you do it if I ask you to?”

“This is not the way it works, no. Visions are uncertain and of the near future. Prophecies are certain and can be set thousands of years ahead of time. Your sort is the one of prophecy.” The dragon regarded him with shrewd eyes.

Merlin paced back and forth. “But what about the moments along the way? The path to get there?”

“That is not something I have in me to tell you, young warlock. You must make your own choices.”

“You say visions are uncertain? Can they be changed?” He thought about Lady Morgana.

“They can sometimes be changed when a missing element is added, something the vision did not include.”

“What about prophecies? What if there is an element that wasn’t included?”

“The nature of prophecies is that they are told not by one source, but by many. And told the same way each time.”

Merlin thought about that. “Could that mean if a new seer prophesized the same event with a slightly different outcome, it would be added to the existing prophecy?”

“You cannot change your destiny, Merlin.”

Merlin stepped forward, standing almost on the edge of the cliff. “Is that how it is? That many visions make one, but there are more than one interpretation of it?”

“Yes, that happens sometimes.”

“What about your prophecy of my destiny? I’ve never heard the full version from you. Does it differ anywhere from others that you’ve heard?”

“What is this really about?”

Merlin continued his pacing. He considered telling the dragon everything, but then immediately decided against it.

It wasn’t something the dragon could help him with. It wasn’t something he felt like being scolded about either. “Do you still get visions. You know, about what happens in Camelot?”

“I do not choose to busy myself with these things. I am far more interested in the day that you will free me.” The dragon shifted uneasily, clearly getting ready to depart again. Merlin never had a chance to really get much wisdom out of the dragon.

At least the dragon knew nothing of what was currently happening. The revelation to Arthur, the turmoil in his heart. Their kiss. “Then there is very little that separates a vision from prophecy. Only the number of people who tell it.”

“You cannot possibly fathom how these things work. They are on a scale outside your current range of understanding. You would do well to forget about trying to change things. You are not ready to face the outcome if you do!” With that threat, the dragon lifted his wings and flew away.

Merlin knew better than to try and stop him. And yet like with so many things he hadn’t been given the time to fully understand anything. How was he ever to make the right choices if he couldn’t be given a proper understanding of any such things?

As he walked up the stairs, he decided to take a different approach. He would look at some of Gaius’ books as part of his own studies.

He would also find something for Morgana to read about. At least enough to appease her fears.

The truth was clear. If she could foresee that he would be hurt by Galorian in the way that he did, she could see more. She could see that he had magic. She could see inside his heart, or perhaps even Arthur’s. It was possible that her powers would never unfold to that degree, he considered. However, he had no way to measure her power and abilities. And Gaius refused to.

He knew that if she didn’t learn about it, she’d go mad for being trapped in her room to stay out of sight. If she went to the druids they would soon tell her about the one druid they all looked up to. The one who couldn’t help them now, not yet. If she learned about him it could still go both ways. But then he had no idea of the outcome.

One thing was certain, if the Great Dragon told him it would be better ‘if she were dead’ he was also telling him that she _wasn’t dead_ in the time of the prophecy. That she had her part to play. It was the same with Mordred. If the dragon truly believed his prophecies to be infallible, then why did he urge Merlin to let the druid boy die? Surely that would _change_ things beyond the comprehension he just spoke about.

He crossed the entrance hall to return to Gaius’ workshop for the rest of the morning, his mind still spinning.

What if the Great Dragon knew what Merlin would choose to do, which was let the boy live and purposefully told him something else, just like Manath might have done for Roslyn. He wasn’t certain exactly what Manath had told Roslyn yet because he hadn’t read the papers that Arthur had written out. He hadn’t had the time. And now he needed to study visions.

He thought about Arthur. He had taken down Roslyn’s story so that their union might be remembered. He said that Merlin had given him the idea, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand what he meant with that. He was still a stupid dollophead and Merlin felt overwhelmed with way too much stimuli for him to think about anything to do with their situation clearly.

He pushed into Gaius’ workroom and saw the man trying to separate tiny seed heads from some flowers with care.

Merlin decided to sit down to help his tutor and they worked for several hours, talking lightheartedly about potions and herbs. Day by day Merlin was still learning so much from this man. He couldn’t imagine ever spending a day with Gaius and not learning something new.

He continued to help Gaius by cleaning the workroom. He did so with his bare hands and his own physical effort. At last he felt his uneasiness fade somewhat after the hard work.

Gaius sat down to eat a small portion of bread and some late autumn pears, and finally Merlin put the scrubbing cloth down and sighed. “Gaius, what if Morgana, you know…” He picked up the pail of water and walked over to the basin to empty it. “What if her visions show her about me.”

Gaius looked up at Merlin. He looked around too because the workroom was a lot cleaner than it was a few hours ago. It almost looked neat. Almost. “We would deny it as usual, I presume.”

“And how is that, exactly, when all of her other visions come true?”

“They don’t all do.”

Merlin wasn’t so certain that they didn’t. At least he was fairly certain that Morgana liked him enough not to hand him over immediately to Uther.

“Merlin, help me get these papers together. I need to head to the council. Then I think you need to bring the prince his lunch.”

Merlin swallowed and assisted Gaius all the way to the council chamber. He did so with a light smile and he greeted several knights and Liam on the way there. He saw that Liam was drenched from the rain and wondered what he’d been up to. Undoubtedly something to serve Sir Caridoc.

When he left Gaius he ran up the stairs. Once he made it to the kitchens he asked Audrey if he could have something to eat.

She gave him a leftover that one of the other knights had not eaten and Merlin happily bit down on some pancakes baked in honey and wine, and some toasted bread with onions and cheese. He downed everything with two minutes to spare before Audrey handed him the tray intended for Arthur and told him to get out. When she told people to get out, they went.

And off he went. He carried the tray up the normal steps following the normal route. And his heart was being shredded to pieces.

He knew what he wanted to say, and he knew exactly what he wanted inside. He hadn’t spoken to Arthur because he feared not being able or not being allowed to express himself. It suffocated him to the point that he could not stand to be around the man. Despite himself saying he would do anything Arthur wanted him to do, he had to say no. That was the ultimatum.

Arthur’s life was more important than anything else.

When he entered Arthur’s chambers he found the table empty. He took several steps forward and saw him sitting at his desk near the window working. He felt a wave of nausea move through his body, and he couldn’t tell for a moment whether the room was too hot or too cold. It was both. And it suffocated him.

His mind returned to more pleasant times when Arthur had no idea about him. It wanted him to escape, to run away. It wanted him to leave this room and not have to do this.

His hands betrayed him as they put the tray down.

His voice betrayed him and offered, “I’ve brought your lunch, sire.”

His eyes betrayed him and looked in Arthur’s direction and sought his eyes, as they always did. As they had for the longest time. He couldn’t remember the moment that it had begun. He was in the middle of it before he knew that he had started loving him. Which was why his answer was so painful.

And Arthur’s eyes met his steadily.

He still hadn’t quite come to fully comprehend that Arthur was somehow interested in _him_. It was far easier to push him away than to accept that oddity.

Prince Arthur was destined to be king one day. Merlin had no business poking his nose in Arthur’s destiny like that. He couldn’t change the prophecies. Or what if the prophecies had never known every part of him? What if it was all just a test? He couldn’t find the answer in Arthur’s eyes.

He found only that Arthur did not break away even for one moment.

All there was in between them now was the open space between the dining table and the desk. And it was the other side of the world to them.

It was Arthur who moved first. He pushed his chair back and got up. He stalked around the desk and Merlin followed his every move. The way his arms confidently swung past his hips as he strolled closer, the way his footsteps were steady, and the way his own knees felt like they could cave in. He straightened himself at last and held his lips pressed together.

“Can we talk?” Arthur broke the silence. He was looking Merlin over in a non-too subtle way.

“Yes," he said quietly. His eyes were vaguely focused at Arthur’s shoulder.

Silence hung between them for several more moments. It built up the pressure that rose up from within. Each were acutely aware of the other’s breathing and the way their skin prickled in response to the other’s vicinity.

  
**\-----32 Arthur-----**

He had no idea what he was doing. He only knew that he needed to show courage just like in every other facet in his life. It had been beaten and bludgeoned into him since his earliest days. He could face a dozen armed enemies, he even faced creatures when he didn’t know their powers and strengths. And yet, he was at a loss to face someone who didn’t fight back.

“Morgana, Merlin? Really?”

“I brought her medicine,” he complained.

It was good to hear his voice. “You were holding hands! If anyone else had walked in—”

“She was telling me how poorly she felt.” Merlin frowned and looked like he would just as gladly leave.

“She doesn’t know anything, does she? Tell me you didn’t tell her.”

“Is that what this is about?” The affront in his expression was clear to Arthur.

“No, it isn’t.”

“Then what?”

“You’re still acting as if there’s nothing going on.”

Again Merlin avoided his gaze. It was better than the stony face which didn’t give a damn.

Arthur did his best to read him.

Merlin rolled a shoulder and chewed his cheek.

Arthur knew that Merlin was feeling vulnerable. He had no idea how to tackle that problem. He was still his servant and that would not change, it could not.

“It’s impossible,” Merlin said at last.

Arthur’s heart sank and he furrowed his brows. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll do what King Uther tells you.” The answer was simple and yet in so many ways it wasn’t.

“I don’t want to marry.” He put his hands on his hips, simultaneously pleased and horrified that he’d admitted that beyond his innermost private thoughts.

Merlin raised a brow. “But you’re expected to.”

“And it means I probably will. But I don’t want to. Until then, I’d say it’s nobody’s business.”

“Sire?”

“Don’t ‘ _sire_ ’ me, Merlin. I’m trying to tell you. What I’m trying to say…” his voice faltered. He didn’t know what he was going to say. “I’m trying to say I’ve never even _looked_ at a woman. I don’t know what happens next. I’d like the chance…”

“I can’t do that, Arthur.”

Arthur frowned. He shook his head at Merlin. “Can’t do what?”

“I keep telling you but you’re not listening. I have a destiny to fulfill and it is to protect you. I can’t… I can’t go decide on a whim and get tossed aside—”

“Who do you take me for?” Merlin was missing the point so badly. He took a step closer. “I can’t even imagine a world without you by my side anymore. You have shown me the best parts of myself, and you point out when I screw up. Frequently, I might add,” he sighed. “You expected me to be better than I thought I could possibly be, and I’ve had to live up to that!”

Merlin lowered his head slightly and pressed his lips together. Arthur studied him and noticed that he was trying to repress a small smile.

Encouraged, he continued, “You’re the one who has made me start to believe in myself.”

This time Merlin’s gaze met his, his eyebrows were slightly lifted and there was color in his cheeks.

He was elated that life had returned to his features. It allowed him to dare to hope. “The truth is that they don’t teach you anything about this. I know how to host dinners, how to pay fine compliments to highborn ladies, and how to pick jewelry for gifts. I have no idea what I should do about this.”

“Well,” Merlin began, licking his lips, “I’d say you’re off to a good start.” The servant lifted a hand to stop him when Arthur moved in closer at this encouragement. “But you don’t know the first thing about hiding. The door is unlocked and you’re expected at the council meeting.”

“Right.” They both understood it.

As a public figure he’d never actually had to do much hiding except to get away from tutoring and to undertake missions against his father’s wishes. They were always found out and he always somehow got away with it. This time he wasn’t certain his father would let him live it down if he ever found out.

What Arthur was asking wasn’t extraordinary among the ranks of the knights. Especially on long field trips where they might be camping for weeks at training or in battle. There were rare stories told of warriors with male consorts and of travelers from different lands openly showing their bond. Here at Camelot it was an unspoken topic. For a prince it was unheard of.

He put his thoughts away for now because Merlin was moving away, out of his potential reach, and heading to the door. “This wasn’t a _conversation_ , Merlin. This was me talking about you.”

“You should eat, sire. And… you’ll have your turn someday.” Merlin’s eyes were crinkled with a jovial enthusiasm and there was a cheeky grin on Merlin’s lips that drove the air out of Arthur’s lungs.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“Never mind. It would only go to your head,” Merlin teased.

Before he knew it, Arthur had thrown one of the bread rolls in the direction of the door.

Merlin dodged it and was out of sight.

He grinned to himself and willed his stomach to settle. He ate the bare minimum for lunch before setting off to join the council meeting.

  
***

There was only about one week left until the peace treaty of the five kings. King Alined of Deorham, King Odin of Norway, King Godwyn of Gawant, and King Rodor of Nemeth would each bring a core staff and would be housed in different areas of the castle.

Geoffrey was reading out the details in a painstakingly slow and monotonous voice which he had practiced over the better part of several decades.

King Rodor would travel with three servants and no manservant, but he had announced that he would not require one. King Olaf would be traveling together with his daughter, Lady Vivian, and two personal servants, a man called Birger for his own service and a woman called Eda. They would travel with six additional servants for their household requirements. King Alined would bring his manservant, Trickler, as well as five additional servants.

It was King Godwyn who posed the problem. The latest word was that he would travel with two manservants, Weston and Kolby, and no less than twenty of his household staff to support him on his journey.

“Twenty?” Holden sputtered. “Surely this has been written down in error.” He got up and walked over to Geoffrey to look over the man’s shoulders.

Geoffrey was rather put out by this insult but bore it quietly.

“He is traveling through lands infested with bandits,” King Uther reminded them. “I should think twenty is suitable.”

“We have already driven several knights out. We cannot possibly house twenty more!”

“They will have to share rooms. Arthur, see to it that we order more furniture.” Uther gestured in Arthur’s general direction.

Arthur stared at the table, at nowhere in particular.

The room quieted and Holden returned to his seat. Apart from King Uther, Holden, and Geoffrey all of the other council members were absent. There was a flu spreading through the castle due to the persistent autumn weather and Gaius had left early to tend to them.

“Arthur?”

“Yes, father?” Arthur visibly flushed, feeling somehow as if he’d been caught red handed at daydreaming. The number of times the word ‘manservant’ passed had steered his mind directly back to his fantasies.

“Have you been paying attention at all?” King Uther looked at him with his perceptive gaze and Arthur did this best to look back and clear the thoughts from his mind.

“Yes, I was just… distracted.” There.

“How many beds are we missing? We cannot offer the stables, they will be too rained-through and the hay will be rotten,” Uther pressed him.

Arthur looked down at his notes and pulled some papers from Holden’s overview over to his. He saw the various names listed, the rooms that were planned out. “Nine, father.”

“Eleven,” Holden corrected him.

“Right, Eleven.”

“Are you unwell, Arthur?” King Uther leaned forward now.

“I’m fine. We won’t have time to commission these.” Arthur stared at his paper some more. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Geoffrey leaned his arms on the table and stared at Arthur. “We will need to directly purchase or otherwise secure them in town from the citizens. Anyone who can spare a bed must do so.”

“What about the inns?” Holden asked.

“All the nearest inns are occupied by the knights we sent away,” Uther added. “Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“You are ill.” Uther pushed his chair back and turned around the corner of the table to stand near Arthur and put a hand on his forehead.

“Father, I’m not ill!” Arthur protested.

But his father’s fingers were touching his flushed face already. He frowned and pulled his head back. He knew his father chose odd moments to suddenly display familial affection, and today with the council being so small it was not out of sorts. But he was not ill.

Uther’s hand came to rest on Arthur’s shoulder. “I want you to go and rest.”

“You’re not listening, father. I am well.”

“You are burning up. I cannot have you sick when the peace treaties begin. I need you here to ensure everything goes well. We do not have one but five royal guests, the Lady Vivian included. You will be expected to entertain her between council meetings.”

“Of course, father. I know that—”

“Then you will not argue with me. You are dismissed.”

Arthur stared angrily at his father. This was ridiculous and condescending.

“Holden, I want you to double check the linens available and make an appointment with another tailor and another barber, we will need more than what we have currently in reserve,” King Uther continued. “Arthur, take these notes down to have them sent out immediately, then retire.”

Arthur resisted the urge to throw his chair back. He bit back the words that came up in his head to give his father a piece of his mind. It seemed, however, that his father knew him better than he thought because he added, “I know I have put a lot of additional strain on you lately.”

“And I can bear it, father,” he all but growled.

“I know you can. But I cannot afford anything other than perfect health from you next week, do you understand?”

He picked up his papers and left without answering his father. He traveled down to the squire’s quarters next to the armory and sent one of them on their way immediately to send out the notes.

He found Sir Owain there, teaching one of the squires how to add and subtract properly. Anything to keep the mind busy during this awful storm.

He stalled going back to his room by visiting the kitchens and harassing Audrey out of a small apple pie. He stalled again when he went to pay Morgana a visit in her chambers. He was only allowed to see her briefly but she looked quite sick with fever and Gwen basically pushed him out of the room.

When he turned away from Morgana’s chambers he saw Sir Leon walk by. Arthur pulled him aside.

“Leon, can you and the others drop by later? Bring cards.”

“I’m afraid I can’t, Prince Arthur. Your father has anticipated what you may do and has stationed guards at your room already. We’re not to enter.”

“What?!”

“Yes, he found out that yesterday Merlin told us you needed some merriment. We were all too happy to oblige, of course. But it sounded to Uther that you required some time to take your mind off things.”

Arthur’s face faltered.

Leon put a hand on his shoulder. “Cheer up, it’ll never stick.” And the man grinned and walked off.

Arthur stared at him. It all came down to Merlin. He hadn’t stayed away because of the knights, he had invited them. And it _had_ done him a lot of good, he reflected.

Sometimes Merlin knew him better than he knew himself. Unwittingly, though, this had sparked his father’s unease. And despite being able to dodge the punishing pile of paperwork, doing nothing was a far worse sentence.

He hung his head momentarily in defeat and returned to his room.

  
**\-----33 Merlin-----**

Merlin had a few quiet hours to himself. He had retreated to his room and stared out the window at the gray and violent weather thundering down over the citadel. Once the storm would clear they would find uprooted trees, homes that needed repair, and many flooded houses which would need cleaning. Merlin was not happy with the anticipation of the rat infestation that might follow.

Gaius, of course, was in a different mood, preparing for colds and sores from wearing wet clothing for many patients. He had taken some of the dry wood and flint that was kept in the royal store houses and handed them out as packages to the citizens who came by in need to clear and warm their homes.

A book of spells lay open on his lap, turned to the pages about dreams and scrying. He was considering which information might be useful to Lady Morgana. He could put some notes down and magically transform the handwriting into the ancient-looking writings of any of the books he had covered. He was far ahead enough to know that. It was just that… he feared that anything he might write down wrong, or that might be interpreted differently, would harm her.

Visions were tricky things and to understand them meant to not just acknowledge what you had seen but to untangle their meaning and decide what to do about them. That was not something he could teach her.

After several hours of huddling in his room he stretched, and got up to carefully shave, using an old musty mirror and the sharpest razor he could find. He washed himself in a small metal tub using a soft cloth, and put on a pair of clean clothes—the same he always wore—and got back out. He had to be thankful to this weather for keeping the knights indoors. Their armor had remained remarkably clean for the past few days and even the squires had seemed more at ease.

He said a brief goodbye to Gaius and resumed his duties, stealing away to the kitchens to pick up the prince’s dinner. He wondered quietly how the meetings had gone. He hadn’t spoken to anyone and he hadn’t heard any gossip.

Clearly he hadn’t been listening properly, because something was up. As he turned into the corridor and stopped at Arthur’s door there were four guards present, preventing him from going in.

“Um, hi," he said stupidly.

“No one is to enter.”

“I can see that.” He tried to push through but one of the guards blocked his way. “Come on, Aldous. You know who I am.”

“He is sick, he needs his rest.”

Merlin was alarmed. “Sick with what?”

“Flu, it seems,” one of the other guards answered.

Merlin frowned at them and held up the tray. “The prince must eat, to recover. Or should I ask King Uther why Arthur is starving in his room right now?”

The guard Merlin knew as Aldous looked at him curiously and stepped aside. “Okay, but we can’t let anyone else enter.”

“Of course, I understand. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him and call out if he gets worse.” With an obvious great reluctance they let him past.

He walked over to the dining table, put the covered tray down, and walked back to the door to lock it.

“Arthur?” For a dreadful moment he thought that either Arthur wasn’t here, and had taken the back door to the servant’s quarters to escape, through the antechamber, or that something worse might have happened.

The room had a good fire going already and several candles had been lit. It was very warm. The curtains were closed. He wasn’t certain who had done all that and he doubted that Arthur would have. Merlin was starting to feel that he really was the worst servant ever to set foot in the castle.

“Here,” Arthur called out. He got up from the ground behind the bed where it looked like he had been doing exercises. He wore his dark brown breeches and his white shirt and was barefoot. Merlin looked at him oddly. “And no, I’m not sick or whatever it is that they’re saying. I’ve been stuck in here since mid-afternoon.”

Merlin looked around at the clothes strewn around the bed, and the shoes and socks laying everywhere. There were scrolls and papers that had fallen off the desk to the ground as well, and there was sand everywhere. He saw that one of the candles had dropped all its wax on the dining table and that two cupboards had been opened but not closed.

“It took you mere hours to do all this?” he teased.

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin!” he warned. “I’m not good at being idle.”

“Clearly!” Merlin said and started to pick up the clothes from the ground.

It was exactly why he’d sent the knights to entertain him the evening before.

Arthur was now watching Merlin pick up everything that he’d casually, or maybe on purpose, missed in his rampage of being locked up. With all that clutter out of the way Merlin realized that  Arthur was advancing with a look of menace in his eyes.

“Don’t be a prat.” Merlin threw the clothes into the intended basket to be sorted later.

“Don’t you start with me,” Arthur started to say, still advancing on Merlin predatorily. Clearly the prince was bored out of his mind already. “Get me out of here, somehow. I can’t stay caged in like this.”

Merlin noticed the sheen on Arthur’s skin from his exercising routine. He felt the heat return immediately to his skin upon his proximity. He needed his head clear. There were guards right outside.

The warlock moved out of the prince’s personal space, dusted up the sand on Arthur’s desk which was used to dry the ink, and replaced a burned out candle with a fresh one from the supply crate. “Now you know what Morgana feels like.”

“What?” Arthur frowned.

“Nothing…” Merlin said quietly.

“If it’s nothing then say nothing.” Arthur sat down at the head of his dining table and started to eat. Several strong gusts of wind made the windows rattle. “She is very ill, isn’t she?”

Merlin looked up at Arthur and pondered for a moment. “That too. But, to be honest, you all treat her as if she’s incapable of making her own decisions.”

“I believe you’ll find that more often than not, I’m not allowed to make my own decisions either,” he complained.

Merlin picked up the silver pitcher of red wine, filling a silver goblet unasked.

Arthur took it from him wordlessly. It all looked so easy, as if nothing had changed. Any onlooker might assume that this was a day like any other.

Instead, Merlin was waiting for the prince to start asking questions and he wasn’t asking them. The longer he waited the more his longing burned. He had to reject the very notion of it. He could not give in to it.

Arthur put down his fork. “Are you on watch duty all night?”

“I can leave if you want.” Merlin looked up at him from the other side of the table where he was scratching the candle wax from the wood.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“You still haven’t told me your side of things…” He leaned back against the backrest of his dining chair and set his jaw.

At last Merlin stopped working and stood lamely with his arms hanging.

“Sit down.”

  
**\-----34 Arthur-----**

Merlin took off his jacket and put it over the edge of the chair. It was too hot in the room. He sat at the far end of the table in silence with the fire crackling away behind him

It unnerved the Arthur, the way Merlin retreated into silence, trying to disappear into the background.

He got up. The chair made far more noise than his nerves could handle and he moved with an unsettling feeling towards the other side of the dining table.

Merlin was clearly uncomfortable with his prying, but he disregarded it and took the nearest chair, demanding a straight answer from him. “Merlin?”

Merlin turned his head away, his blue eyes seeking out the fire in the hearth. His lips were parted as if he was about to speak but unable to find the right words. He looked as if he was about to bolt towards the door, one of his legs twitching uncontrollably.

“You’re right, you know,” Arthur started, trying to pave the way. “You told me I thought I knew you, but I really don’t.” At Merlin’s momentary sideways glance he felt encouraged and continued lighthearted, “I believe I even called you the conqueror of women all across Camelot and Ealdor. I’m thinking there weren’t any girls involved.”

“There were some,” Merlin corrected him.

Arthur stared at his revelation. “Right.”

“Boys too.” Merlin turned to him at last. “That’s not what it’s about, Arthur.”

He didn’t reply, merely lifting an eyebrow, at his title being dropped entirely. For now he waited for Merlin to talk. He had all night if necessary.

“There isn’t anyone who knows as much of my nature and my spirit as you do. And yet, it is as you say: you know so very little.” His gaze followed the curves of Arthur’s chest and arms, anywhere but his face.

Merlin was clearly still trying to find the right words. His fingers curled around the table top, and he steadied himself. “As much as I have told you, that much and more I have to conceal. I won’t be able to provide you with the truth even if you ask me. There will be times I need to pretend and I cannot always let you know in advance when I am…”

“I’m not asking you—”

“But you will. Because this would include transparency and that is not something I can give. And I’m sorry. I should have said so sooner.”

“You have lied to me already for some time. Don’t assume that I’m not aware of some of these lies by now.”

“There will be more,” Merlin whispered, looking distressed.

Arthur clenched his jaw. “You don’t trust me.”

  
**\-----35 Merlin-----**

Merlin frowned, trying to calm the myriad of thoughts entering his mind at the same time. He couldn’t trust Arthur, not yet. He couldn’t tell him everything. It was impossible to know how he would respond to knowing that Morgause was right about Ygraine, but how she herself was not a good sort of sorceress. She couldn’t be.

He couldn’t divulge how the Great Dragon spoke to him underneath Camelot, how Morgana had visions and that he’d better listen to them. How she might turn on them all.

How could he begin to explain how Lancelot had left Camelot on his behalf, because of his magic, and had broken Gwen’s heart.

He didn’t even know why the druids bowed their heads to him when he did not know any of their names. He couldn’t explain to Arthur how he knew the prince was going to die by the hand of Mordred. And that he would do _anything_ to prevent it from happening, but had no idea where to start.

“It’s not that,” he deflected.

“You just said so yourself. You don’t trust me enough to be open with me.” Arthur was frowning at him now, clearly losing his patience. He’d been locked up inside too long and, just like Merlin, had opened up to reveal parts of himself long hidden.

Merlin got up and walked away from the table. “I’m not saying that. If you had any idea…” _I should never have kissed him._

“This was a mistake,” Arthur mirrored his thoughts.

He walked through the room and put his hands in his hair. Was Arthur right? Was it a mistake?

He knew that he’d long believed himself capable of putting all his feelings aside. He’d long believed he could close them somewhere and hide them away. They all came spilling out of him and he felt nauseous.

He couldn’t go back now. It was too late, and there was too much at stake. It was so much bigger than him.

The worst part was seeing how upset Arthur had become over this. It _wasn’t_ nothing, and it _wasn’t_ a mistake. Whatever Arthur had thought and felt it was at least as strong as what he felt. Arthur’s look told him exactly that.

He convinced himself they couldn’t proceed, there were dangers involved for Arthur beyond what Merlin could handle.

“Perhaps it was…”

The prince got up and walked towards him. The line of his shoulders was taut and he looked angry. “You are not the only one within Camelot saying less than they mean and doing more than they claim.”

“I want to tell you. Everything, all of it.” He looked away again. “But the dangers are greater than I currently understand, and the consequences are not something I can predict at all. You have to believe me.”

“The way you picture me is as if I can’t keep a secret to save my life. And yet I’ve been keeping yours as well as my own.”

Arthur had come to stand in front of him and Merlin felt guilty. He’d hardly considered the burden it must have put on Arthur’s shoulders to never be able to pursue his personal preference either.

Whatever short adventures Arthur would have for himself would be fleeting and temporary until the day his father found him a bride. And now that he’d taken that extra step and revealed himself, it was being taken away again. He realized that Arthur must understand _some_ of what he was going through.

“The day you follow your father’s orders into marriage, what would happen then?” Merlin asked gruffly.

“You don’t know that that day will ever happen.”

 _But I do. It must._ “This cannot be.”

“What more do you expect of me, Merlin?” Arthur demanded.

“I don’t know!”

“Stop being an idiot!” Arthur yelled and grabbed Merlin’s shirt, pulling him in to kiss him.

Merlin’s hands pushed against his chest helplessly as his lips responded eagerly, his thoughts and protests wiped from his brain in seconds.

There was a push at the door to Arthur’s chambers. “Arthur!” It was followed by a loud hasty knock. It was King Uther’s voice.

Arthur was off him in in a second. Merlin bumped backwards against the table which toppled the goblet and spilled wine over the table and the floor. Arthur’s cheeks were flushed and he looked stricken.

“Just a moment!” he yelled.

“Lie down, pretend to be sick,” Merlin said softly. He walked towards the door to unlock it.

“I’m not sick, Merlin. I’m tired of being locked up in here.”

“Just a moment, sire,” Merlin spoke through the door as he turned the key.

Merlin was all but shoved aside when King Uther entered and regarded Arthur who stood next to the table, hands on his hips and ready to challenge his father’s every word.

“Why are you not in bed?” Uther demanded without ceremony.

“I’m all recovered, as you can see.”

Uther scrutinized Arthur, the room, and Merlin by the door as well as the spilled wine. “And why was the door locked?”

“To keep out Sir Leon and Sir Kay most likely. It was all Merlin’s idea that I should rest.”

Merlin glared at him momentarily from behind the king, still holding the door open. Merlin was extremely terrified that anything might be read from their expressions or the very fact that he was still there.

“Did anything happen, father?” Arthur pressed, trying to break Uther’s inspection.

“Yes, Gaius has fallen ill as well and has been brought to his chambers.”

“Gaius?!” Merlin exclaimed and Uther turned to him impatiently.

“Yes. You are required to take up his duties as well as care for him.”

Merlin gathered himself and nodded. “Yes, sire!” He was instantly worried for his master and headed out the door, nearly bumping into Holden in the hallway.

“Merlin!” Arthur called out. Merlin halted and tried to turn around as normally as possible. For an instant he had no idea what normal was and he desperately hoped that nothing showed in his demeanor.

“Yes, my lord?”

“You forgot this.” The next thing he knew his jacket was tossed into his face and Uther closed the door, shutting him out of the room.

  
***


	3. All You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur get away from the castle on a short trip to gather supplies at The Crossroads. Their peaceful journey is interrupted when The Crossroads appear to be upset by a creature of magic. In the meantime, Arthur's single-minded determination allows him to begin unraveling Merlin.

  
**\-----36 Merlin-----**

The great storm which had animated the charcoal skies for almost a week and relentlessly pounded the stone walls with battering high winds had subsided at last, and left in its wake a pale sun shining weakly through a thin layer of gray clouds like a stain glass window. Many trees surrounding the citadel had lost their crowns to the violent tempest, standing out like dark skeletons against the pale skies.

The calm quiet dawns that followed held all the promises of the city resurrecting. The town awoke in a drenched daze and collectively set to work to repair roofs and remove rotten food and supplies from town as quickly as possible. The dirty city streets were quickly becoming muddy pathways.

The past two days Merlin had spent indoors looking after Gaius, who had fallen very ill. The old physician spent long hours sleeping, which were interrupted by bouts of hacking coughs, and he seemed generally out of sorts, incoherent, and even delusional at times. His moments of high fever were alternated with heavy shivering and complaints of feeling miserable.

Merlin only went out to serve the prince his meals and he had asked Gwen to help out by bringing the clean laundry to his room. Gwen gave him a hard time, fussing over his bruises as they healed, and made certain the gossip about Merlin was kept to a minimum. He was grateful to her.

At night, Merlin did not sleep for more than four hours, waking early each day to make more potions, and carefully check on his master’s health and his temperature. During the days many reports came from sick people and Merlin provided as many brews and potions as he could to them, using the knowledge he had gathered over the past few years. He was cautious in providing the patients with the right flasks. He hoped he wasn’t making any mistakes. When Gaius was lucid he asked him for advice and generally found he was doing decently at his job. He served Gaius his medicine diligently and fed him with a light chicken broth.

On the third day, in the unholy hours of the night when Gaius was sleeping, Merlin watched over him with a large, old book on his lap, reading by candle light about healing spells. He found one which reduced Gaius’ coughing and allowed him to sleep for longer periods. To his relief he noticed his master recovered more each time he used it. This meant Gaius was getting better, or he was getting better at using them. It was hard to tell.

After many hours of reading, Merlin concluded that the challenge with these spells was that you needed to be presented with an opportunity to resolve the issue at hand in order to practice it. Only someone within the capacity of receiving sick people frequently would become adept at this. Such as potion makers and herbalists. Physicians, too.

He wondered how many people still practiced magic in order to help people heal in Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms. He worried about the amount of knowledge that disappeared with their deaths and he dreaded to know the amount of innocent people who had died, or would die in the years to come, because these healers were no longer present.

The opposite, Merlin realized, to get people sick on purpose, was far easier to achieve. One simply needed a person and access to the right spell. And, of course, the right sort of magic. The difficulty with magically creating an illness was that each person was not equally susceptible to be affected and no one understood why that was. Some authors had estimated that some people had stronger emotions or attitudes and this stood in the way of the spell taking effect. Others attributed it to the soul. Merlin wasn’t certain of either yet.

Once the castle awoke at dawn, he left Gaius and set off to distribute the latest batch of potions and brews selectively to any who had fallen ill. With so many of the household taken to their beds, everyone else was running to catch up on preparations. Once the morning routines of breakfast and dressing were past, the household broke into a fit of preparations for the accommodations in lieu of their five royal guests. The hallways were packed with furniture, that was being moved between chambers, and every room was dusted, aired, and carpets were being brought outside for a good beating.

Merlin met up with Gwen who was carrying a pile of court dresses through the corridor and greeted her. She smiled warmly at him, stepping aside as an old mirror was being carried by two people to a different wing. She opened her mouth to speak but stepped aside once more, to the other side this time when four people, including Sir Owain, carried a bed frame past them in the other direction.

“How is Gaius, I hope he is recovering?”

“I believe he is, thanks for asking. How is all the preparation work coming along?”

“Oh, poorly. Everything is behind schedule. We haven’t got enough pails or baskets to provide the extra staff for cleaning. There aren’t enough blankets, buckets, or even chamber pots! Then the curtains in the Rose Room fell down today. Oh, and part of the stables caved in after the storm, so now there won’t be enough space to house the guest horses. Uther is going to sell some of the beasts in order to make room.”

Merlin looked at her with worry in his eyes. There was no way he could help the situation with his magic. Everything would have to unfold as it would. He felt useless. “Have you heard from Holden? Is he managing to keep everything together?”

Gwen smiled oddly. “He’s been alright. Mostly barking orders. He has tasked George with bringing Uther his meals now, so he has more time to oversee the preparations.”

Merlin looked away sheepishly and ignored the memory of what might have inspired Holden’s change of heart regarding Uther’s lunches. Or what had followed after that.

“What about Prince Arthur?” He tried to keep his face as normal as possible and ended up looking like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“He is,” Gwen looked down for a moment and thought about her answer a little too long, “the same as always, I suppose? I don’t really know.”

“I haven’t seen him training today.”

“Oh no, the knights won’t train yet. It’s far too soggy outdoors. Most of the knights are helping out with duties. I mean, it’s not their normal duty but, well, they were asked and they all agreed it would be a good thing.”

Merlin looked around and indeed he saw that guards, knights, as well as the staff were cooperating. “It’s rather marvelous, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s great. We will need you to chip in too once Gaius is well again.” Gwen gave him a teasing smile.

“Of course! You know me, strong as an ox!”

Gwen chuckled. “Anyway, Prince Arthur is currently with the Lady Morgana now that she has recovered. I overheard them discussing allegiances, local lords and noble families, and, er, trade agreements.”

“What?”

“Well, they’re preparing for the peace treaties. Arthur is overseeing that she is entirely informed.”

“She will sit with the five kings?”

Gwen beamed. “Indeed she will.”

Merlin grinned widely. “Shall we bring them their meals together then?”

“Yes, we’ll meet in the kitchens. I’ve got to run now.” She turned the corner to continue her rounds.

Merlin watched her and marveled at Gwen’s spirit and resilience. There was really very little which could bring her down. Just seeing the castle hard at work invigorated rather than worried her. He knew there was something bothering her though, and he’d have to ask her at some point.

He turned towards the workshop convinced that Uther had orchestrated this tutoring for Morgana to effectively keep Arthur ‘out of the way.’

He had tried to keep Arthur out of his mind as much as possible. His duties came first, they had to. But the prince had a way of barging back into his thoughts, as he essentially did to every room he entered. The clotpole. After their kiss over a week ago, Merlin had wanted nothing more than to do that again, and more, in his waking hours and in his dreams. His brain was exhausted, it felt like dried out parchment crackling under the weight of logic, just trying to push it from his conscious thoughts.

He paused before entering the workshop, leaning against the door post. Images swam back into his head unannounced. He hadn’t seen it coming. If he had been paying more attention he might have seen the signs. But were there any? Had he missed everything until Arthur kissed him? Until Arthur held him, touched him?

What it all came down to was that Arthur wasn’t interested in marrying at all. He was interested in men. That explained a lot. Especially regarding all the advances of various marriage prospects being continuously ignored. The more Uther wanted it to happen, the less Arthur was interested in it.

That meant Merlin had missed the signs or had chosen to ignore them. Or was there something more behind it? He couldn’t understand why Arthur chose him, and it made him both giddy and anxious.

Through the door he heard Gaius cough. He set his mind to his duties, locked his wishes and dreams inside once more and pushed through the door into the work room. He found Gaius up and working on potions.

“Gaius, you should be resting!”

“Oh no, Merlin. I cannot stand to be lying down any longer.”

“But…” Merlin put his carrying bag down on the nearest table and walked over to his master to inspect him with a scrutinizing look.

“There are others worse off than I am,” Gaius assured him and coughed lightly.

“I doubt it, I’ve been seeing to them myself.”

Gaius lifted a speculative eyebrow, putting down the pestle and mortar onto the workbench.

“Okay, there’s a few who are still very ill. But most of them have gotten better…!”

“Perhaps because you have depleted my stores and made all the brews that were possible to make with them.” Gaius tried to look at least somewhat cross with him.

“Well,” Merlin started and looked around. The cupboard behind Gaius was nearly empty. Several of the large containers which normally were filled to the brim were now empty. The stockpile of vials was reduced to five. “It was serious?”

“I do not doubt it. But you will have to go to town and get more supplies.”

“I don’t think we’ll find them in town. Everyone’s been as locked up as we were.”

“Then you will have to travel.” Gaius poured the mixture from the mortar into a sieve.

“Is there any possible way we can make do without that? If you’ve seen the state the castle is in—”

“You’ll see the state I will be in if you do not get me the supplies! Merlin, the sick do not wait for convenient timing!”

“I’ll see if Holden will let me,” he moaned.

Gaius eyed him sharply and handed him a small bag of coins.

“Right.”

Gaius smiled at him.

  
***

Merlin waited in the kitchen for Gwen, standing next to the lunch trays. He casually finished whatever lunch was available to him, it wasn’t much but it tasted great. When Audrey wasn’t looking he shoved a small cake, fresh from the oven under the cover of the tray for Arthur. It was still hot under his fingers and he winced.

Audrey turned around and regarded sharply.

Merlin was staring innocently out of the kitchen window at a pair of small birds picking off something from an overhanging branch.

The cook continued her work.

One of the kitchen maids, Josselyn, tutted at him as she walked past and Merlin grinned. She wouldn’t give him away. Not since he’d seen her take one of the roasted chickens to her uncle’s family after her aunt passed away and hadn’t said a word.

At last he spotted Gwen entering the kitchen from the other side. She nodded at him and smiled brightly. They both took their trays and set off towards Morgana’s chambers.

“So is she all better, then?”

“Yes. I mean, she seems to be. She was only sick for a day or so. I’ve never seen anyone heal quite that fast!”

“It must be her willpower. Strong as iron, that one.” Merlin smiled at Gwen.

Inwardly his thoughts circled back to the magical bracelet around Morgana’s wrist. It had to be what was protecting her from harm. He wondered if it considered her dreams to be harmful. Did it then also consider magic to be dangerous? Did Morgana know about its attributes precisely or did she wear it for its beauty?

“Try steel,” Gwen corrected him. Merlin had to agree.

They climbed the stairs towards Morgana’s room and before they had reached the top, Merlin felt his heart thud against his ribs as if he had been climbing staircases all morning. All his thoughts centered around the prince. It was ridiculous. He would do his job and get out. It would be fine. Just like every other day. Besides, they were in the middle of political talks. It was no place for him. And he had to go for that errand for Gaius, and…

Gwen knocked once and pushed the door open. Merlin heard Arthur and Morgana’s voices at the back of the room near the window. Gwen set her tray down on the large table nearby and Merlin walked around the table to put his on the other side. In doing so he spotted them, seated in the corner near a large window half hidden behind the room screen, playing the ancient game, backgammon.

Playing games.

“Hard at work, I see,” he said more to Gwen than to the others. Morgana and Arthur stopped talking. He couldn’t help himself. “I can really see how it aids diplomatic strategy and, er, politics.”

Gwen gave him a look that said _‘stop talking now, you idiot!_ ’

“If there is anything you wish to say, why don’t you come in here and say it?”

Arthur.

Arthur challenged him like usual and it was the most delicious thing he’d ever heard. Goosebumps trailed down his neck. Merlin pretended to be fine. His head was dizzy with a thousand things to say and none to actually pass his lips.

Gwen made a purposeful sound by removing the cover of her lunch tray with a clang. Merlin didn’t remove his. He regarded at Gwen with a challenging look. Her eyes screamed _‘Don’t do it!_ ’

He could see Lady Morgana, leaning back in her chair close to the window. There was a small expectant smile on her lips. She enjoyed these small twisted games. Merlin walked over to the two of them, until Arthur came into view around the edge of the screen. The backgammon board was open on the small table between them and they were quite a way along with it. Arthur was sitting casually as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It was a stark contrast with the bustle in the corridors and heavy bags under the eyes of all the staff.

Merlin crossed his arms defensively, willing his nerves to calm down. Arthur did not seem upset with him. He had no idea where they stood. Perhaps everything would go back to normal.

“Well?” Arthur prompted.

Merlin could see interest in his gaze. He nearly faltered from its intensity. All thoughts of normalcy evaporated like smoke. Merlin gestured at the board. “Morgana’s clearly winning. No surprises there.”

She snorted. “Very perceptive. Arthur is really trying though, you should know.”

“You came all the way here to say that? Don’t you have any work to do?”

“Your lunch is ready, sire,” he announced with sass. “Oh, and I will be away this evening—"

“So my father has informed you already?”

Merlin blinked at Arthur stupidly. “What?”

“We are to ride out to The Crossroads for trade. We’re still missing quite a lot of items.”

“But, I’m going out for herbs.” He turned around and looked at Gwen. She lifted her hands in a very _‘keep me out of this_ ’ way and left quickly. When Merlin turned around again Arthur was getting up from his seat.

“No, you’re not,” Arthur explained as calmly as if his patience had been tested for hours already. Morgana’s teasing grin confirmed that suspicion.

Merlin didn’t like where this was going. Again, others were deciding what he should do, when he should do it, and how. He was being pulled into several directions and he had to keep himself stable somehow.

The prince came to stand before him menacingly and put his hands on his hips. It was hot. “We ride out after lunch. I’ve received a list of items to gather. Talk to Holden and get ready, Merlin.”

A shudder went through his system from Arthur’s proximity. It was the only thing betraying how turned on he was by his vicinity, his voice, even his unbearable, pompous authority. “Yes, my lord.” He looked him directly in the eyes.

Arthur stood with his back to Morgana. Gwen was gone from the room. And Merlin saw _everything_ there in Arthur’s expression. The prince’s unguarded need, his longing. It wasn’t just how much he craved getting out of the citadel, being active and necessary; it clearly revealed how much he wanted Merlin.

None of it had suffered. And it surprised him. Merlin felt a blush creeping up his neck and all the way to his ears. He was being an idiot, he knew. They were to set out on a work assignment, nothing more. He had already told Arthur that much. Everything in Arthur’s look was telling him was that it was so much more than that. This would be a test.

Morgana was watching him. Apart from him licking his lips, he gave nothing away. He regarded the prince as he normally would. Morgana was as shrewd as they came. He couldn’t give Arthur any confirmation of the heat of his feelings raging within, twisting his thoughts and his stomach and screaming for him to act. He held it all inside. In fact, he had already lingered too long. He unfolded his arms and made a small bow towards the Lady Morgana. “I’m glad to see you’ve made a full recovery.”

“Thank you, Merlin.”

He turned around again, not sparing Arthur a second glance. He wasn’t sure he would be able to fully control his looks or the blush across his features. The last thing he did was lift the cover of the lunch tray on his way out. Knowing Arthur, he would spot the small cake beside his regular meal right away. It was all he had to offer.

As he left the room, holding the door in his hand, he dared to turn around once more, carefully. Morgana was out of his direct line of sight from here. He only saw Arthur. And Arthur was _smiling_ at him and he felt his resolve crumble as his own lips, much to his own elated surprise and indignation, curled into a smile to answer his. Then he was out the door with his pulse racing and his heartbeat gushing through his ears.

This was a dangerous game they played. But then, he’d been playing it from the start. Perhaps Arthur had been too. He had no idea.

His stomach turned sour instantly when a voice called “Merlin!” from the other direction of the corridor. He stopped and spun around to look at Holden with the most unintelligent look he could muster. The man was speeding up to him with a collection of scrolls under his arm. “You will travel together with Prince Arthur to the two inns at The Crossroads. Speak to Dennett and prepare Llamrei and Royse immediately. You’re taking a cart for supplies. You are to stick to orders only, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he said. Then added, “Gaius needs supplies. Am I allowed to look for a herbalist?”

“Orders only, Merlin.”

“It’s not for me, it’s for Gaius. We need to have everyone better before the royal guests arrive, don’t we? What if they fall ill and need potions?”

The menacing look Holden threw him then was cold enough he felt his teeth chatter. “You don’t dawdle, you don’t delay. One hour for your herbs.”

Merlin nodded smiled at him genuinely.

Holden didn’t like it one bit. “I have my eye on you.”

“Of course, sir.” Merlin made a small bow and left in the direction of the royal armory to gather the necessary supplies for their journey.

Holden having his eye on Merlin meant nothing to him. He could easily persuade Holden with his magic to not quite notice him in the hallway, but the effect was always of short duration and risky in public. And it only worked if someone had multiple tasks on their mind to begin with. If they were directly searching for him, the spell would not take hold. It was good enough though, for it worked like a charm whenever Holden was in a very bad mood and eager to take it out on the nearest servant who in his eyes performed subpar and needed to be taught a lesson.

In the armory, he worked carefully to pack only the most necessary items. He hadn’t been informed as to what it was they were trading, but it didn’t matter, it was not his responsibility. He packed a traveling bag with a bedroll, a pan, two deer skin flasks, and an additional warm blanket as well as Arthur’s sword and a small knife just in case.

When Merlin reached the stables, he was shocked to discover the state they were in. Sunlight was streaming through the roof where it had been partially blown away. The wet hay stuck to the ground and the horses were restless. Several rats were scuttling around, profiting from the prevailing wetness.

Merlin greeted the stable master, Dennett. He was an old man who looked like he had been powerful in his youth. Despite his straight back, the years had weighed down on him, turning his skin into paper and his fingers thick and bent. Merlin asked him about Llamrei and Royse, which they would be taking for their journey. He noticed the man was agitated.

During their chat Merlin learned that one of the foals from that year had not survived the storm and its mother was despondent. Dennett wasn’t being given any help or money for taking care of the remaining animals and King Uther had sent him away. The squire, Liam, had offered to help him for the past few days but he didn’t have the coin to pay the boy. The stable master shook his head and continued his work.

Merlin went to check on his favorite roan, Royse. The beast turned his ears forward and assumed an eager expression upon Merlin’s arrival. To his relief, he saw that Royse was doing fine. He spent quite some time brushing the animal down and gently stroking his powerful neck until the horse was comfortable and cheerful. He checked the noble animal’s hoofs and legs, and Royse let him do so easily. Afterwards he picked up Arthur’s traveling horse, Llamrei, a strong white mare, and brought her together with Royse through the stable door towards the courtyard.

Dennett was already there with two tacked up horses which were hitched to a large wooden cart with a leather flap over the top to protect what it carried. Several knights stood next to the horses and the cart. Merlin wondered whether the other knights were joining them on the journey to Crossroads. Perhaps their charge was valuable.

The stable master spoke vigorously with Arthur. The prince was padded into a thick brown autumn coat against the chill but did not wear his armor. He was also wearing thick autumn gloves that would keep his hands warm during the journey.

As he crossed the courtyard Merlin noticed the cart was mostly empty; a few bags of grain, a sack of apples, and some crossbows had been packed.

Arthur received several papers from Dennett and put them into his jacket. Perhaps it was an additional list for supplies, Merlin thought.

Dennett turned to Merlin, who was stroking the neck of Arthur’s horse to calm her down. He took the reins from Merlin and harnessed both Llamrei and Royse in front of the other two. The old stable master looked mournful but kept his head high as he resumed his duties. Merlin placed the rest of the saddlebags into the cart and looked around at the weather. It wasn’t great, but it also wasn’t terrible.

Arthur turned to him. “All right, Merlin?” he asked as casually as could be.

“Everything’s ready. Are you not taking your armor?” The knights regarded them with ease. Merlin grinned at them. He was anxious to get away from any prying eyes in order to ask some real questions. Though he was equally apprehensive of having to provide answers of his own.

“The roads are reported to be quiet.” The prince didn’t even spare him a second glance, more focused instead on putting his gloves on.

Merlin nodded at him. He had no idea what this journey was for or what it would bring. He only knew which ingredients and materials Gaius needed. The pouch of coins was safely tucked into the travel bag. What was really gnawing on his mind was that he had no idea if he could stand being around the prince and complete their journey normally.

He held his breath as he watched Arthur climb up the seat of the cart and take the reins. Everything about his movements looked eager. Merlin nearly slipped and fell down as he attempted to climb up, and it was for the very same reason.

“We can’t waste any time,” Arthur said, more towards the knights seeing them off than to Merlin.

“Of course, sire.”

“We’re not to stop for any interruptions.”

Arthur guided the four horses into motion and they trotted through the gate towards the southwestern road.

  
***

The autumn sun pretended to do its job. Traversing the woods was slower than anticipated due to cool winds and deep muddy puddles. Merlin huddled his jacket around him, ducking against the wooden bench, trying in vain to get some warmth from it. The horses trotted along calmly as they rode on in silence. Merlin felt strangely at ease, more than he should have, perhaps.

Setting off on a journey through the quiet woodland, taking up the scents of wet leaves starting to rot, spotting various fungi emerging from old wood, was immensely relaxing. He had been sleep-deprived and welcomed the scents and sounds. And when Arthur kept his mouth shut, that was bliss too.

He didn’t even realize he had dozed off until they roughly hobbled over a rocky patch. He was shaken out of a dream involving Prince Arthur in a steaming tub and him reaching down into the water… He shuddered awake, noticed that Arthur was watching him, and sat up straight instantly. The hobbling continued for several more moments relentlessly shaking him out of his daze.

He leaned forward and rubbed his eye with his palm. When he spared another glance, Arthur was just looking at the road again with a small grin.

“You know, _Merl_ in, you might just be as useless at being a manservant as some protector. Napping on the job, and all.”

Merlin stifled a yawn and huffed. “You are armed.” He pointed vaguely at Arthur’s sword. “Besides, all you’ve done lately is play silly games.” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he did it anyway.

Arthur wore his best indignant grin. His eyebrows were raised. “I could have you fired for that.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Are you calling my bluff?”

“Entirely, my lord.” Merlin stretched his legs. He looked out at the surrounding woodland as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“George could replace you.”

“You wouldn’t last a day.”

Arthur snorted at that. “He’s much more precise and proper.”

“And a total bore.”

“And a total bore…”

Merlin glanced at Arthur and couldn’t help smirking. The prince was looking at him curiously and hopefully.

It was a trap.

He turned away again, leaning on his knees and wringing his hands. Everything he wanted was right there, but to step in and take it meant to ignore everyone’s warnings all over again. He wasn’t meant to interfere. He’d already disappointed them once. If anyone found out…

“You still don’t trust me,” Arthur said with a stoic voice.

Merlin’s chest constricted and he closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m not saying that.”

“Yet you can’t open up to me.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” he said, suddenly nervous. He had known this would come. Arthur picked up where they had left off. There was too much left unsaid between them.

“Then start at the beginning.” Arthur regarded him seriously, paying no mind for the moment to the horses trotting along. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time. Tell me about the sorceress, Nimueh. I keep hearing her name and no one will be honest with me.” The prince noticed Merlin faltering and urged, “Tell me at last, so I might begin to understand.”

Merlin hung his head, wondering if there was any way to escape this. It sounded like Arthur had given it quite some thought and had narrowed down his questions to the most pressing one and this was it.

He understood the prince’s difficulty in grasping the truth, when everyone at court who had been present around his birth might have some knowledge of what occurred, and no one would own up to the facts.

“Nimueh was a High Priestess of the Old Religion, her magic was bound to the earth, deeply embedded into its natural cycles. However, she was a selfish woman with a mind to control those around her. She was a more considerable tyrant in her day than… well, er, Uther.”

He noticed Arthur getting uncomfortable. Merlin’s words were bordering treason. And yet, if Arthur called him out on it, he would close the topic of Nimueh’s actions forever—as she was Uther’s treason. Right now, where they were, the risks were low. They were entirely isolated and even if someone was close to the road, the thundering sound of their four horses would drown out their conversation. They were free to speak.

Arthur frowned and glanced at him sideways. “How powerful was she?”

Merlin scratched the back of his neck. “More powerful than any other sorcerer I’ve met.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s gone, dead,” he said softly.

“You’re certain of that?”

“Yes.” It had been a terrible day when he’d left his mother sick in bed and followed Gaius out to the Isle of the Blessed.

Arthur stared.

“I struck her down. She’s gone, I’m certain.”

They rode on in silence for some time as Arthur processed that information. Merlin was relieved when the prince did not press further.

“They said she served a king.”

The horses trotted along the path as Merlin thought about how to answer that. They crossed an old wooden bridge that was across a steep glen noisily. It creaked and groaned under the weight of the horses and the cart, which offered him a moment longer to think. “A long time ago, she served a king. When the Great Purge started, it is presumed that she returned to the druid lands to serve her people as High Priestess.”

“You’re avoiding my question. You _know_ , Merlin. Tell me you know. Someone has to say it.”

Merlin kept quiet.

“She served my father.”

He didn’t reply.

“Merlin!”

“She served him, Arthur. She was probably his court advisor for some time. Until… until you were born.” Merlin remembered the echoing of Morgause’s voice in the old castle ruins, how her magic had prickled on his skin and how she had used an incantation he had never read or heard anywhere before. The words and their intention had been clear to him. He had memorized it by heart but had never dared to use it. He would not. He also recalled Arthur’s utter distress at discovering the truth from his mother’s lips.

Arthur was following the same train of thoughts. “Morgause was telling the truth. You lied to me, Merlin. As did my father.”

“No, Arthur,” he said as he turned towards the prince, “you have to understand. Morgause did trick you. What you saw wasn’t an illusion, it really was your mother.” He sighed. “She was so beautiful. But the incantation... it cast a claim on Ygraine; she had to tell you about your birth. That was the trade-off for her leaving the spirit world to see you. It was in the spell.”

Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “All this time...”

Merlin bit his lip. He reached out a hand and placed it carefully on Arthur’s arm. “Your mother died believing that Uther had betrayed her. That is your father’s true tragedy.”

Arthur pulled his arm back. “To create a life a life must be taken. Those were her words. He _sacrificed_ her—”

Merlin sensed Arthur’s desperation. “No, Arthur. Nimueh did. She had a cruelty to her, she _enjoyed_ watching others suffer. She wanted control over your father and saw Ygraine as a threat to that. Perhaps his love for her was too strong to sway his mind for Nimueh to gain command over the kingdom. Perhaps she wanted to control him in his grief and his guilt. She did the same to me when—”

They rode on.

At length the prince spoke sharply, “When what, Merlin?”

“It doesn’t matter. When your mother spoke to you, she also said ‘do not let this knowledge change you.’ You promised her.”

“Then it is true, I was born of magic.”

Suddenly the beauty of the landscape around him could not stir him any longer. The tone of Arthur’s voice in his acknowledgement was of defeat and concession. As if it had hurt him to admit it. “You are still the same person.”

The prince scoffed at him incredulously. “I owe magic my life.”

“No, it’s not that simple.”

“Obviously,” he growled. His cheeks were flushed with agitation and his jaw was working as he tried to understand all the implications.

Merlin watched him and wished deeply he could appease him.

He moved closer, but Arthur hissed, “You told me that everything Morgause said was a lie!”

“Had I not done so, you would have struck your father down, and the kingdom would have fallen apart. My whole _existence_ came to an end when I had to say those words!”

The trees were thinning and in the distance they saw a thin line of smoke coming from a settlement. Arthur looked at Merlin in anguish as he began to uncover the truth behind those words. He took his time to process the information.

Merlin scuttled back to his side of the cart and crossed his arms. Gaius would have a fit. Then again, perhaps Gaius never had to know. After all, the man had kept the circumstances of Arthur’s birth entirely hidden from him until the facts were laid out on the table. It still stung. How could Gaius not have told him?

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Deny yourself?” As they came closer to the village, they passed several meadows with sheep, an orchard with low trees bearing heavy fruit, and several travelers with heavy packs tied to their backs.

“I’m just not a prat,” he said lightly.

Arthur’s mood didn’t lighten.

“This is what I do, Arthur. This is what I’ve always done. I have to—”

“Right, right. This thing about destiny. What does that even mean?”

“We’re almost here.”

“Merlin!”

“Can’t,” he shook his head. He was exhausted from his agony in telling Arthur the truth about Nimueh. They passed a dirty farmer carrying some crops and Merlin hoped the prince wouldn’t press further. Their whole discussion was treason in and of itself.

They rode into The Crossroads, the village which was spread around the intersection of two important traveling roads and a key center for trade. An old oak grew beside the intersection; its thick branches were twisted and ancient, reaching over the road in a gnarled, looming overhang. A frayed rope tied around one of the branches spoke of public hangings, and a warning to all who dared to break the law.

There were two sizeable inns with large stables. Various travelers were calmly walking or riding in and out of the village, many of them were bent over under heavy packs on their backs, or trudging along with some animals for sale or that had been recently purchased. A variety of workshops along the broad intersection opened up to the streets and the workmen shouted at the people walking past to offer their services. There was a cooper, a smith, a baker, a cobbler, and several other crafts were being offered.

The mixture of scents from the workshops was an affront to Merlin’s nose as they rode into the village. He noticed several shops were closed and that at least three men were laying around looking lost and drunk from the night before, or perhaps many nights before.

Arthur pulled up to the Seven Seasons Inn and together they took care of the horses, guiding them into the stables and brushing them down. A young stable boy named Perrin helped them along. He was a small kid, five or six years old, and he was eager to show them where to place the horses and how to make them eat and drink. The boy took great efforts to teach Merlin and Arthur the right way of doing things. Arthur made a great spectacle of doing everything wrong, which exasperated Perrin and made Merlin chuckle.

They paid the boy a few coppers and he ran back inside yelling for his mother. Merlin spoke several soft words to Royse, patted his neck and side, and gathered the reins and harnesses up into his arms. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up in surprise.

Arthur stood beside him and gave him a small nod. “Thank you.”

“Er, for what?”

“For everything you’ve done. For at least being truthful with me earlier. I find that so few are.”

Merlin regarded the prince steadily and nodded once. He felt Arthur’s hand shift up along his shoulder, to his neck, to cup his cheek. He turned his head away from it.

“You persist in your refusal?”

He didn’t dare look up at Arthur. He had been living a life denying his wishes for so long that he struggled to give in. If he was to meddle with fate and take what he wanted, what would happen then? If the Prince of Camelot was discovered to be involved with a servant, his own manservant at that, then his prospects for the realm would diminish. Arthur was overconfident in his pursuance, he was convinced. “It’s too dangerous,” he said weakly.

It was only those threats that prevented him from dropping the harnesses, leaping forward and kissing him right there. Instead he closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore his burning longing as it tore him up inside.

“I recall a moment when nothing was more important than this,” Arthur quested.

Merlin paused and it felt like a hole was being torn open in his chest. He huddled the harnesses to himself and lowered his head to hide his blush. Despite his best efforts his mind returned to their kiss down in the bowels of the citadel and every fibre of his body was alight once more at the memory.

Arthur’s hand came back up to his cheek greedily and this time he did not move away. “I shouldn’t have said that.” A thumb stroked over his heated cheek. He felt the blush crawl up to his ears. They weren’t so easy to hide. He was aware of his heartbeat, it was so loud that he thought perhaps Arthur might hear it too.

“And Morgause enchanted me?” Arthur pointed out sarcastically.

“That’s not the same.” Merlin’s voice was small.

“Why are you so afraid of this, Merlin?”

He tilted his head lightly and utterly, grossly betrayed himself by leaning into Arthur’s warm palm with his cheek. He looked at the prince, into his gorgeous eyes, willing Arthur to comprehend. “Tell me, can Uther hang the same man twice?”

He had no chance to find out what Arthur’s response might have been as the door to the inn opened and a large woman walked out with Perrin running out in front of her to greet them. Her dress was simple, decorated only at the neck and at the sleeves which was common for these parts. She had long reddish blonde hair tied back with a pretty lace and she was obviously the boy’s mother.

She called out for Prince Arthur and introduced herself as the innkeeper, Hilde. Arthur pulled his hand back and pretended he’d just finished feeding the horses. Merlin turned away and left the stables, returning to their cart. He spent several long moments gathering himself. That is, until he noticed several small faces regarding him. From within the cart.

“Hey!” he yelled out.

Five dirty children ran away, three from within the cart and two more from behind it. They were carrying things.

“Halt! Thieves!”

The sound of a horn was heard in the distance.

Merlin ran after them and noticed they had stolen one of the crossbows, a bedroll, and several apples. The children, four boys and a girl, split up into different directions and Merlin came to a halt, unsure of who went where carrying what. Around him people were running indoors rapidly. He spun around and saw Arthur hurrying out of the stables, regarding the spectacle.

“Merlin!” he yelled angrily. A sixth child ran out of the cart, right beside Arthur, with Gaius’ money pouch. Merlin dashed across the road to block the boy’s escape route. The boy stopped still. “Stop!” Arthur yelled. His first reaction was to draw his sword.

Merlin gaped at the prince and shook his head. They circled the kid. His eyes were wild with fear. He held the money pouch to his chest. “That isn’t yours,” Merlin tried. “Give it back and we’ll let you go. Trust me, he won’t be so nice if he needs to tell you again.” He pointed at Arthur.

The boy shook his head and took several steps back. He turned briefly to look at Arthur and Merlin saw his moment clear. He made the boy trip over himself with a small spell and the pouch fell to the ground.

Merlin made a grab for it.

He got hold of the pouch, just as the boy crawled up and attempted the same. The large round eyes in his small face looked past him and widened further in pure terror.

“Merlin…” Arthur’s voice was flat.

The warlock pocketed the pouch and turned around. All the people who had been on the road were gone. All the local shops had closed their panels. Merlin scrambled back to his feet as he discovered what had frightened the boy.

A creature was walking into The Crossroads, upright like a man yet covered in dark brown and gray fur. Its head looked like an elongated horse’s head, gross and hideous. It’s lame mouth hung open and blood poured out of it, along crooked teeth. Its eyes were black, barely shining in the dull autumn sun. Out of its head sprung two giant gray horns which resembled evil hands with twisted fingers.

The boy scrambled away as fast as he could, his face covered in tears and snot from the horrible sight. Merlin instantly forgot the theft, entranced by the hideous creature coming their way. He got to his feet quickly. Arthur lifted the sword and Merlin joined Arthur’s side.

“Stay behind me,” Arthur ordered, and for once Merlin did not contest it.

The creature walked quietly toward them in a straight line. It wasn’t very big at all, and its large head bowed forwards, seemingly glaring at them.

“What is this thing?” Arthur hissed.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Merlin whispered. He looked around for anything of use. Arthur wasn’t wearing his armor. If this creature was dangerous, Merlin had no other option but to stand his ground and defend the prince. He scanned the closed panels of the shops; his eyes darted past randomly placed buckets, a pothole filled with rain water, a bale of hay. Nothing useful. Everyone who had been traveling was gone.

The horn blew in the distance again, sending chills down his spine. They knew, Merlin realized. The people who were here, they knew to hide.

The creature lifted its arms and something in its right hand glowed.

Magic.

Merlin wasted no more time and with his magic he pulled one of the chimneys at the back of the Seven Seasons Inn down. It tumbled noisily, in a racket of bricks, down over the thatched roof and toward the creature on the street below. The creature tilted its head lamely sideways—it wasn’t very mobile, Merlin noticed—and before the spell was released from the creature’s hand, heavy old bricks piled on top of it and in front of it. The crumbling mortar colliding onto the dirty road created a large cloud of dust, which spread along the street.

“Quickly,” Arthur ordered and spun around, but Merlin was ahead of him, diving behind their cart. From their new vantage point they regarded the empty road and watched as the dust slowly settled. They hadn’t heard anything after the crash of stones on the road but once everything was clear, the monster was gone.

“We scared it off,” Arthur said.

Merlin made a noise.

“Alright, _you_ scared it off.”

He grinned.

  
**\-----37 Arthur-----**

Arthur sat down at the other inn, the aptly named Brass Cleaver, for mead and roasted pig with boiled carrots and onion. It was crude but tasty after a long day of hard work. He had spent several hours arguing over prices and materials, gathering all of Holden’s requirements from the list and effectively ‘staying out of the way’ of the castle’s final preparations as was clearly the intended plan.

Most of the items had been crossed from the list and he’d sent Merlin out for anything he couldn’t be bothered retrieving, like chamber pots.

All the items were now placed in the cart, which was secured at the Brass Cleaver’s barn, guarded by the innkeeper's teenage son, Fulco, for a good few silvers. Arthur wasn’t ready to lose more items so he promised an additional reward if everything was perfectly in order the next morning for their return.

He had intended to stay at the Seven Seasons Inn, but since their chimney was destroyed and their hearth was out for the night, booking rooms there had lost its appeal. The Brass Cleaver was now full of even more people demanding food. Arthur’s table was occupied by only him, on account of him being the Prince.

Arthur had had to bargain steeply to secure one of the final rooms available. From that room, he had the additional benefit of being able to look into the barn to check that the cart was being properly guarded by Fulco.

With so many people at the inn, Merlin and Arthur had had some time to ask around after the creature which had threatened them. Few people were willing to open up about it, having become wary of mentioning it.

It was Fulco who had finally shed light on the ‘Elsthyr,’ the deer-headed creeper that wandered the woodlands and occasionally on the streets of The Crossroads, bewitched children, and had made valuables disappear for the past few months. They had spoken at length with the young man and had learned some bizarre facts about it.

Merlin had set off on his own errands and while Arthur ate his meal, he tried to put the pieces together of the strange events.

For starters, Arthur had noticed that after it had disappeared from beneath the broken chimney, the villagers had resumed their activities on the streets and in the shops like normal. When he had asked Fulco, he explained that everyone had become tired of being afraid and they knew that they could resume life without much interruption. Sometimes the monster did not come for weeks on end; it did not do to dwell. Besides, they had their own issues to contend with at the village.

Secondly, there was an increase in robberies at The Crossroads. The merchants who traveled on the open roads now came and went in groups. There was an increase in burglaries and fornication. Several lambs had been taken from a nearby farm and outhouses were burned down. A lot of men and women had taken to drinking.

It didn’t sit well with Arthur at all.

On top of that, Fulco told him that many children had gone missing. The grown ups were left with broken families. When it first started, search parties had gone to nearby villages and into the surrounding wilderness to try and find them, but they had never been able to find even the smallest trace. They occasionally spotted the children when they were back in town to steal things, and to Arthur’s surprise, the grown ups allowed it. They were concerned for the welfare of their young, even if they had been snatched out of their hands.

Arthur had asked Fulco who had control over the children now. They must have a leader, supporting this little gang of thieves. He had replied that he didn’t know. Arthur had thanked Fulco for his time and said he’d be back in the morning to check up on the materials.

The Crossroads didn’t seem to have a leader or a village elder either, not after a man named Urien had been tried and hanged for practicing witchcraft. Urien had been a well respected leader of the village and no one had taken up the position since.

From Hilde, Arthur had learned that this had happened over a year ago and that was when the Elsthyr had first appeared. It threatened the villagers frequently, but over time it had showed up less and less. Hilde thought that the Elsthyr was the result of a curse, because they had accepted Jutes living in the village, though they were obviously barbarians.

It had been several months after the Elsthyr had started haunting them that the children had started to disappear.

As Arthur listened to the conversations in the inn over dinner, he discovered that there were two theories. One said that local landowners had systematically kidnapped over twenty children from this village as well as nearby ones. He noticed the dull look in the eyes of several parents who didn’t want to believe that their child was now owned by someone they had never met and were being forced to work on their land.

One man did not speak at all, but his dark look at one loudmouth drunkard spelled nothing good for the evening’s progress.

The other theory was that the Elsthyr enchanted the children away, into the forests to raise them as wild children, and that it would turn them into its personal army once they were grown up. They feared it was a spiritual revenge for hanging Urien. Once the man had been hanged, his family had disappeared instantly and it was a few months afterwards that the first little boy went missing.

Dreading the worst, Arthur rather believed the second theory. The appearance of the Elsthyr troubled him greatly. He had never heard of it before, and it had appeared so close to the citadel, less than a day’s ride out! Children had been taken right out of their homes. None of the adults had managed to find them and bring them home.

Finally, no requests had reached the royal family to try and ask the knights to resolve it. This was unusual and he pondered it. The villagers seemed enchanted by the creature into letting it have its way.

Arthur was nearly finished with his meal, seated close to the hearth, when Merlin finally showed up, entering the dining hall with a satisfied grin. Arthur nearly dropped his fork.

Merlin was carrying three painted chamber pots filled with a broad array of flowers bundled together in an array of colors, wild herbs, and mushrooms. The very sight of it did something something strange to his belly.

The clumsy servant brushed past several other guests towards him with an idiotic smile on his face, entirely missing their annoyed and curious looks in his direction. His cheeks were rosy from coming indoors. There were some heavy bags around his shoulders too, no doubt stuffed with other potion materials. Even his pockets were filled with herbs. Arthur took a long sip of his ale to prevent himself from outright laughing at the sight of him.

It didn’t work. The ale was still vile, Merlin was still cute. He snorted.

“Did you get us rooms?”

Arthur took a bite of his pork and looked up at Merlin dismissively. “I got us their last room. There was a rush. The traveling merchants were not looking forward to being on the road at night after… today’s sighting.”

Merlin regarded him curiously for a moment and nodded. “Do you have the key?”

Arthur leaned back, looking at Merlin fumbling with all the pots in his arms. “Yes.”

He sighed. “Well can I have it?”

The prince took another bite from his meal. Heads were turning in their direction curiously. He was nearly done with his plate. Merlin gave him a sassy look, pursing his mouth impatiently and it stirred something at the pit of his belly that he knew should be laid to rest.

“Up the stairs, last door to the right. I’ll be up in a second.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Go on. I’ll get you a meal.”

Merlin turned on his heel in a huff and swung the chamber pots around. One of the other guests had to duck his head not to be hit by a particularly pretty white and blue embellished one. Arthur bit his lip.

He finished his meal a moment later and got up from the table. Across the room he signalled the serving girl for another meal. Before he left the dining hall, he bent down to pick up a bundle of lavender which had fallen to the ground. He twirled it around in his hand and grinned.

A few minutes later he was up the stairs and walking towards the end of the hall. He didn’t see Merlin there. When he took out the key and opened the door, it unlocked with a loud click. Merlin was in the room, the pots with flowers were stuffed on a bench to one side, covered by a plaid blanket. The heavy shoulder bags had been stuffed below it.

“How did you enter?” He closed and locked the door behind him. He placed the plate with hot food on a small table in the corner of the room and shrugged a deerskin flask of mead off his shoulder.

Merlin regarded him simply. “Do we have to go over this, sire?”

Arthur felt like an idiot for asking.

He regarded the layout of the room. There were two beds, both too short for any reasonable person to sleep in, and each was placed at an odd angle in the far corners of the room. There were three candle stubs available to light, two small clumps of flint, a shelf on the wall which held a cup of dried flowers, and there were three hooks fastened to the wall which made up the wardrobe. Everything was in a decrepit state.

Merlin was looking at him uncertainly. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No need. Just… don’t get caught.”

“Great, now you sound like everyone else.”

Arthur paused. He saw Merlin tense. “Which ‘everyone else,’ _Mer_ lin?”

“Not now, please,” he said as he regarded the food hungrily. The delicious scents were spreading across the room and Merlin probably hadn’t had anything to eat since they departed in the morning. He looked quite exhausted.

Arthur stepped in front of the table, blocking access to the meal and crossed his arms. “I’m not playing. If it’s important enough to tell them, don’t you think I should be aware?”

Merlin regarded him angrily. Arthur noticed the stark line of his eyebrows and his jutted chin. He eyed the fading bruise from Galorian’s blows across his cheek—a faint yellow smear was all that was left. He noticed too how Merlin was slightly taller than him. Now was not the time for observations. Arthur was not ready to budge. Not even when Merlin’s glare turned to a plea.

“You’re asking me to break someone’s trust. I can’t and I won’t.”

“You’re defying a direct order from your prince?”

“Oh, you are so eager to mention your station when it suits you. Yet you still want... what you want in spite of it. You are an honorable knight yet you are asking me to break my promises. Frankly, my lord, I’m finding that hard to follow.”

Arthur scowled at him. Everything he said felt like a slap in the face. If he pressed him for more information than he could give, he was owning up to his rank and disregarding him as a person. And he couldn’t do that no matter how badly he wanted to cross that line.

“Fine,” he said and stalked away from the table. “Keep your secrets.” He passed the warlock and shot him an angry stare, pushing the bundle of lavender against his chest unceremoniously. Merlin took it. Not being included in Merlin’s life was bothering him more than it should. He had never effectively been a part of anyone’s life, people were only interfering in his.

Merlin moved hesitantly over to the small table and sat down to eat. The fight was taken out of him by Arthur’s declaration. Clearly, he hadn’t expected it.

This need Arthur felt was new, it wasn’t something he could explain. It was important. If he had to stop using his status in order for Merlin to warm up to him, then that’s what he would do. He simply couldn’t imagine it any other way. He knew what he wanted and he was prepared to make concessions for it. Perhaps he was being greedy in that. He probably was...

No, he also knew that Merlin was afraid. If he weren’t afraid, nothing would hold him back. He had felt his fire, his urgency. He had tasted Merlin’s need on his lips. ‘ _Can Uther hang the same man twice?’_ Once for his magic, once for the kiss. Merlin was on thin ice already on a daily basis. How he still had his head on his shoulders, Arthur didn’t know. All he knew for certain was that he felt a strong urge to protect him.

He needed to busy his mind, so he sat down on a small stool next to the smallest possible window and looked out. He could see the cart in the barn from his vantage point and Fulco looking bored. The boy was eating a spiced drumstick and smearing his dirty fingers all over the bench.

They sat in silence for some time until Merlin was finished and had drunk half of the flask of mead. He closed the flask back up and hung it carefully off the side of his chair before taking out his list of items from Gaius to check that he had everything. The sack of coins was emptied onto the table and Merlin counted what he had spent and what he still needed to get. The bundle of lavender was still out on the table. Its soothing aroma filled the room.

After some minutes the twilight in the room took over as the sun had fully set. The merest flick of his head and a flash of gold caused the candle on the table to catch a flame, offering the warlock more light to work with. It barely even registered with Arthur.

“How much do you have left?”

“Seven silver pieces, some copper,” Merlin answered neutrally. “And you?”

“Nothing, I bartered.”

“Bartered what?”

“The grain and... Wait, shh—”

Merlin looked up from his accounting.

“Oh no!” Arthur said, looking out the window, frowning in disbelief. Merlin was up in an instant and looked out the window alongside of him.

Fulco was walking away from the cart, holding a small leather pouch obviously with something valuable. From their view they could look into the barn. They saw the cart. The cart was fine, except…

Instead of the innkeeper’s son guarding their wares, an unknown man and woman were heavily making out on the soft linen that was piled up and ready to go. The couple looked ready to go as well.

“Is that all?"

“I can’t believe he left his duty!” Arthur sputtered. “I’m going down there to have a firm word with him!”

“It’s rather harmless, don’t you think? Besides, the materials are still well guarded,” Merlin chuckled and stalked back to the table to continue his work.

Arthur stayed where he was and regarded the spectacle. After some minutes he shifted in his seat. He felt Merlin’s eyes on him, but for the moment he couldn’t care what the other thought of him. This was, in fact, too good to miss.

As if reading his thoughts, Merlin sighed and said, “You should really give them some privacy.”

“They’re out in a barn, Merlin. Anyone could walk out there.” His eyes were fixed on the spectacle and from time to time sounds reached the window too. His cheeks flushed.

“You’ve never seen it?” Merlin asked cautiously.

“Once or twice…” he admitted without thinking. “Summer training camp three years ago, we were out for several months. Some wenches traveled from the nearby villages and the knights…” he trailed off. He looked up at Merlin’s utterly surprised expression.

“Right.”

“Forget I said that.”

“Of course, sire.”

He was away from the window suddenly and closed the poor excuse of a curtain. “I think I’ll turn in.” He had been watching the couple and his cock was rock hard in his breeches.

Merlin abandoned his work and walked over to undress him.

Arthur panicked. He stood up and held out a hand to stop Merlin. If Merlin would touch him now, he would… “Leave it, it’s going to be cold and the blankets are flimsy,” he fabricated. “I’ll sleep like this.”

“Even your belt and your boots?”

He warned himself not to take advantage. “I’ll need to take off my boots, _obviously_.”

Merlin frowned and knelt down to undo his boots. The second boot resisted and Merlin’s hand grabbed the back of his thigh while the other tugged at his heel. Arthur steadied himself with a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and bit his lip. His mind was racing with longing and needs, while his will steeled itself against executing them.

As Merlin turned away to place the boots in the corner, Arthur saw his ears turn red. Whatever Merlin said about propriety, he was just as affected, he knew that for certain.

“Leave the rest,” he tried. His voice was hoarse.

“Don’t be stupid.” Instead of turning away, Merlin was back on his feet, expertly undoing his sword belt and tugging the thick padded coat off Arthur’s shoulders.

Close as they were, Arthur followed his eyes, his expressions, the small bow of his upper lip, the way the pink color crossed his cheeks. It was divine. The coat was almost off his shoulders and Arthur held his hands stiffly down. Merlin leaned in closer to complete his task. For a moment they shared each other’s breath.

Arthur _saw_ Merlin react, he saw his lips part and his eyes turn hazed. He knew he was in no better state himself. And yet, Merlin had all that self control, yanking Arthur’s left sleeve loose, then his right. Arthur’s erection burned in his breeches, aching for action.

“Merlin, stop,” he breathed. His jacket fell down behind him on the ground.

Merlin didn’t pick it up. He just stared back at him. It was the way Merlin stared that drove the air from his lungs. His eyes were half lidded, his mouth was open, and he was breathing as if he needed more oxygen than he was getting. Arthur felt on fire. He witnessed all of Merlin’s self restraint and how it crumbled bit by bit. How Merlin leaned in tentatively and started to lift one hand to reach out to him.

Arthur could easily forget the world around him if Merlin looked at him like that. He could almost forget how the other had told him ‘no.’ He could let his desire take over and ravish him. The heat from his groin was so intense that he lost all coherent thought. But he could never forget Merlin’s honor.

Merlin took a step closer. For all the lack of space between their bodies, there was so much that was unspoken hanging in the air. Arthur didn’t dare to move in, in case Merlin would realize what he was doing and shut him out again. He was frozen, in case this was not permitted yet. His thighs and his belly turned into mush. If only Merlin would take one more step, he could… they could…

The sound of a horn blew in the distance.

They blinked at one another, briefly unsure if they had stood like this for mere moments or for hours.

“The monster,” Arthur said. The moment they’d had dissipated in seconds.

Merlin cleared his throat. “We should help them.”

Within minutes Arthur was back into his boots and coat, and Merlin slipped the belt and sword around his waist without their earlier tension. Their natural patterns were back into place. They heard scuttling of feet from the inn below and uneasy voices from the rooms beside them. Arthur realized how well the sounds carried between the rooms and he was at once grateful for Merlin’s caution.

Merlin grabbed a supply bag and threw it over his shoulder. They locked the room behind them and rushed outside where a handful of people were gathering. A pillar of smoke arose far in the distance. It seemed to be out on the road, in the direction that Merlin and Arthur would have to travel the next day.

“I’ll ready the horses, sire,” Merlin said but Arthur grabbed his arm.

“We’re going on foot.”

“Why?”

He looked at Merlin with difficulty. He’d wanted to keep this from him until the morning. “Because I sold them.”

“What?!” Three people on the streets turned their heads vaguely in their direction, but soon continued what they were doing. The panic in the village was increasing.

“All of them?” Merlin asked. This look of utter disbelief and broken trust, Arthur hated it.

“I’ve kept Llamrei for taking the cart back tomorrow.” He stated and put on his leather gloves. “We’ve got to run, Merlin. Let’s go.”

“You sold Royse?” Merlin did not want to go. Arthur knew how much he doted on that horse.

“Yes, it wasn’t your horse to begin with, _Mer_ lin. You would do well to remember that.” He hated himself as he heard the words spill out of his mouth. And yet he knew he wasn’t wrong. Merlin shrugged apathetically but the dirty look he shot Arthur betrayed him. Hilde pushed past them, calling out for her boy Perrin. She looked distressed.

“It wasn’t my idea, it was my father’s.” Arthur attempted to explain himself, “We haven’t got room in the stables, we needed to trade. Now let’s go, I’m not telling you a third time.” Arthur started to run in the direction of the column of smoke.

Merlin looked around for the kid as well. He wasn’t anywhere in sight, but the streets were getting busier and it would be hard to find him here. He didn’t follow Arthur yet as if he was still evading his order.

“Hurry up!” Arthur barked. At last Merlin followed him.

The horn blew again. A flock of birds were awoken from their slumber and flew up across the sky. Arthur could see their silhouettes against the orange glow of the distant fire. The smoke towered darkly into the sky until it was caught by the high winds.

They ran for some time, following the road which would lead them to Camelot in the morning. Merlin stayed close behind him. The road wound down the other side of the hill and it would take them too long to get there. Arthur decided to head into the woods in order to take a short-cut. They hurried through the darkened woods and went straight for the source of the fire. Arthur had his sword out and was prepared to attack.

When they climbed a steep hill, they heard men shouting on the other side of it and knew they were getting close. There was a battle taking place near the rickety old bridge they had crossed before. Smoke filled their nostrils.

They peeked over the hill and both of them ducked immediately as an enormous fireball soared over their heads and struck the nearest tree behind them. Fortunately the leaves and soil were wet and nothing around them caught fire.

“Sorcerers!” Arthur hissed. He stayed ducked behind the hill while Merlin looked out again.

“It’s the, er, the monster. There’s a huge bonfire behind it.”

“The Elsthyr,” Arthur stated. “What else do you see?”

“It’s big, much bigger than we saw before. There are... Arthur there are two patrol soldiers from Camelot.”

Arthur looked out again and witnessed two exhausted soldiers from the royal army, wearing the Pendragon tabard, pitted against the hideous creature. The Elsthyr stood as tall as four people, it was massive, and swatted the soldiers down angrily. One of them flew back onto the ground. He lay still. The other attacked with his sword.

Arthur climbed up to help him but Merlin grabbed his arm and hissed, “Wait, look!”

Arthur held his breath. He took in the details of the scene. There were several children lurking in the bushes around the creature.

What was worse was that there was another fireball growing in the Elsthyr’s large palm. As the knight’s sword struck against the creature’s leg, it released the fire directly upon the soldier. A hideous scream pierced the air and the man fell down twitching horribly.

“Stay down,” Merlin said, not taking his eyes off the creature. He took the supply bag off his shoulder and shoved it towards Arthur.

“Merlin, what are you thinking?!”

“You don’t have your shield with you, and you’re not wearing your armor. Don’t show yourself. I’ll distract it.” He started climbing over the hill.

“ _Merlin!_ ” Merlin ignored him, and Arthur wondered if he was still upset.

The warlock ran down the side of the hill, his baggy coat billowing behind him. Arthur observed as Merlin gathered himself on the road between the two soldiers and the Elsthyr. The large vile creature with its enormous horns lifted its arms and roared a deafening cry upon spotting Merlin.

Arthur swore.

Merlin looked one of the soldiers over, then the other. From the guttural growl it became clear the creature didn’t like that. One of its palms started gathering fire.

Arthur panicked. Why wasn’t Merlin moving away? He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, ready to jump out if he needed to. He was not a coward, not by far. But there was very little he could do against fire blasts raining down on him. His heart quenched at seeing Merlin out there in the line of attack. The fireball in the creature’s hand was growing, illuminating its fur and its dreadful black eyes. The smell of roasted flesh joined the scent of charred wood. His stomach roiled in disgust.

Then Merlin did something he did not expect. He stood up and walked toward the creature and spoke in a loud clear voice, “Why are you doing this?” It took a moment for Arthur to register that Merlin was… _talking_ to it.

The Elsthyr growled, poised its feet and hurled the fireball directly at Merlin. Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. His eyes widened and he was close to running out to push him out of the way when he realized that he would never reach him in time.

Merlin lifted his right hand and braced himself. The fireball dissipated in a loud furious boom and crackle against a half-dome made of magic, pushed out in front of the warlock. It was a shield of some sort, glowing in golden swirls and spirals, which protected both Merlin and the two fallen soldiers. Arthur gasped, did that mean they were alive?

Irrational fear settled at the back of his brain at seeing a sorcerer in action. Even though it was Merlin. Despite knowing who he was and where they stood, there was something within him that wanted to stop any further magic from happening. He was conditioned to hate it, and he felt painfully conflicted. Adrenaline gushed through his muscles and his legs felt painful and twisted beneath him as he sat hunched, ready to jump out or run off depending on what happened.

“Calm down!” Merlin said. “I mean you no harm. Why did you attack these men?”

Without warning the Elsthyr put both hands together in front of it. As the creature’s wrists met, a storm of fire shot out from its finger tips in several jet streams. Merlin’s shield was back up in an instant, at the merest lift of his arm. Merlin was almost pushed back and he knelt down.

Seconds later Arthur understood why. A gust of wind and a rumble through the ground announced the sheer force of the attack. He felt his cheeks grow hot and taut with the impact of the fire. His hair was blown out of his face and he wondered if he still had eyebrows left. Behind the shield, Merlin was unphased.

Once the attack stopped, the Elsthyr shook its large elongated head and stomped the ground. It had not expected any resistance.

“Can you speak? What is your name?” Merlin asked again.

Arthur noticed that the children were edging away from the scene, they gathered behind the Elsthyr and climbed onto the narrow bridge and some disappeared over the cliff side, descending into the steep glen.

That was clever, Arthur thought, being behind the creature was far safer than being in front of it. He tried to see if Perrin was among the children, but it was too dark to see.

“What did these men do to you to make you attack?” Merlin advanced toward the creature. It was so counter-intuitive to what Arthur would have done in the situation that he felt sick. Whatever the creature was, it changed its posture and made several strangled sounds in a language Arthur couldn’t quite catch.

“Your mother?” Merlin was close now, he lifted a hand to reach out to the creature, to try and touch its fur.

At the very last moment it seemed to panic and with an arm easily the size of an oak tree it swatted Merlin away. The warlock flew several yards back and landed on his back. Arthur didn’t spare a second to think. Merlin was hurt. He jumped out and ran forward.

“Arthur, no!”

The creature roared. Merlin turned around painfully on the dirty road and raised his hand just in time to redirect the fire spear that was hurled at the prince. With a flick of his wrist, it soared over Arthur’s head and disappeared into the forest. Arthur knelt down and made himself small. A crash was heard some distance away.

“Merlin!” he shouted, unhelpfully.

“Stop this!” Merlin shouted at the Elsthyr. This time Merlin sounded panicked. He got up shakily from the wet ground, mud caked to his suede jacket. He rushed over to stand in front of Arthur and looked back over his shoulder once to see if Arthur was okay.

Arthur was _not_ okay. He was trying to deal with what he was seeing. He looked at Merlin’s expression, at his hesitation about everything that was happening. Sparks and embers flew around his hair, lit up by the enormous bonfire behind the Elsthyr, beside the bridge.

There was a glow to his features that Arthur had only seen after dumping heavy workloads onto Merlin’s roster. No, it was more than that. Merlin was abound with vigor, except it wasn’t the physical sort. He was more alive now than Arthur had ever seen him. He also began to recognize how misplaced his role as servant was, in his capacity as his protector. How entirely absurd. It almost made him laugh. Instead he just stared at him.

The Elsthyr moved and leaned forward. It looked menacing with its head lowered, pointing its huge twisted horns in their direction. One hand leaned on the ground. It panted heavily. Arthur was convinced it would attack them.

Merlin turned away from Arthur, standing with his feet wide apart and his back to the prince. His hand lifted again and Arthur felt the evening winds die down around him. Something was flung their way in rapid succession.

Arthur didn’t even have time to see it before Merlin’s shield deflected it. Several more times the shield was impacted and each time it caused bursts of light, expanding into cascading ripples of magic across its surface. The bursts were getting smaller.

“You are tired.” Merlin advanced on the creature once more, holding the shield in the air. The creature roared and stomped against the ground. “I understand. This has to stop.” His voice was gentle.

It lifted its head and the shout that came out of its mouth had a different quality to it. It sounded almost like a person. Merlin stopped walking towards it, instead lifted both his hands.

Before Arthur saw what was happening it lunged for Merlin, both its arms out, its bloody mouth hanging lame and baring long crooked square teeth. A sharp gust of wind erupted from Merlin’s hands and he pushed the creature back. Arthur felt the wind soar around him too, sweeping up his hair, and nearly knocking the sword out of his hand.

Merlin’s coat flew up and settled around him again. The Elsthyr was down on the ground, its head twisted at an unnatural angle. Slowly it got back to its feet. It groaned and sighed.

From behind it, Arthur saw all the children watching. They were all there. They had not run away. Why? “Merlin!” he called out. Merlin did not respond.

He watched intently as the Elsthyr uttered a string of ancient sounding words. It spoke, after all. It sagged through its legs, and this time the magic around Arthur felt entirely different, powerful enough to send crackles through the air. Whatever it was summoning, it would be devastating, he realized.

“I won’t let you release it.” There was an element of warning to Merlin’s voice this time.

The casting continued. From behind it, the children looked wide eyed at the creature. They were not afraid of it, Arthur realized. Then he spotted Perrin among them, sitting behind two dirty looking girls.

“Be careful,” Arthur whispered. He couldn’t get his voice to work. He knew there had to be something he could do. He hadn’t ever let anyone take charge of his battles, and staying on the side of the road made him feel useless. And yet, he could not interfere. The air was thick, dizzying.

Merlin started to cast as well. Both their voices rang through the air, the creature’s dark twisted syllables countered by Merlin’s steady but firm string of words. Arthur saw sparks at the corner of his vision from the sheer thickness of magic in the air. His lungs were constricted.

As the creature gasped for air to complete its spell, lifting two hands and one of its feet in order to make a final powerful stance, Merlin’s hands shot forward and a whip-like sling shot out from his position, tying around the Elsthyr’s standing leg planted firmly on the ground. Merlin pulled with a swing of his arms and the colossal monster started to fall backwards, its spell fizzling and crackling around it in a deafening series of blasts.

“Merlin, the children!!”

This time Merlin registered what Arthur said. He only saw at the very last moment that the Elsthyr was falling onto the bridge where the children had hidden. They screamed in fear and tried to slink away. Some of them jumped down into the gorge. The large body was falling, its head lolling backwards.

Arthur jumped up and ran forward. Horrible fear settled within him that the children might be crushed beneath the Elsthyr, or else by the bridge when it would tumble on top of them. Merlin shouted a string of words Arthur had never heard before and just as the Elsthyr crashed against the shaky structure, destabilizing the bridge further in a series of wooden creaks and groans, it stopped.

The creature did not fall anymore, the bridge did not crash into the glen. Merlin stood unsteady for a moment before he seemed to be pulling at something, his fingers curling and grappling onto what seemed to be thin air.

“Arthur! Get them out of there!”

The prince ran forward and fell to his knees along the edge of the cliffside. The children were scattering, some were crying and afraid.

“Take my hand!” he shouted at the nearest one. It was too frightened to react. The old bridge creaked in protest like its key structure could snap any moment. As if that was its cue, the kid climbed down into the glen, following its friends, and out of Arthur’s reach.

Behind him Merlin’s voice bellowed in a scream across the clearing and the creature was lifted back into the air. Arthur saw the emptiness beneath it, and tried to wrap his mind around the enormous limp form dangling as if being held up by an invisible palm. He couldn’t explain it. Merlin was bringing it back onto the cliff and it crashed there with a thud and a burst of air and dirt that flew up around it. The bonfire behind the creature crackled and snapped in protest.

Merlin hurried over to the prince on wobbly legs and looked at the remaining children. They ran at the sight of him. “Stop, tell me what happened!” His voice was hoarse.

Arthur shook his head. “It’s too late, Merlin. They were with the creature. They look up to it.”

Merlin shivered and shook his head, “No…”

“Yes, and now they’re gone.”

Merlin let out a strained sigh and returned to the creature. He looked worn and about to collapse from emotion.

“Perrin!” Arthur saw him on the edge of some shrubs. He hadn’t dived into the glen and was hugging an old tree just a few feet from the road for comfort. “I’m so glad we found you!”

Perrin regarded him cautiously.

“I won’t hurt you. Come, all the big noises are gone now. I’ll take you back to your mother.”

At the mention of his mother, the boy’s face contorted into something of intense youthful longing and grief and he hesitantly stepped forward.

Merlin’s voice interrupted him. “Arthur!”

The boy stopped in his tracks, but Arthur held out his hand and looked Perrin straight in the eyes until he was holding the boy’s hand. “Got you safe. Don’t worry, alright? I’m taking care of you.”

“Arthur it’s—"

He turned around then and saw what Merlin was referring to. The Elsthyr was shrinking before their eyes. Its enormous body was becoming smaller. The large horns that were once huge and terrifying had suddenly shrunk, as if they had never been that large, and went back to their original size. The coarse fur that covered and protected its body was now a fine thick coat. The monstrous head rolled away from the body and Merlin gasped.

It had been a helmet, a mask. An animal’s head hollowed out. Inside of it, a teenage girl around twelve or thirteen years old. She had dirty blonde hair tied back into three rough braids. She lay very still. Merlin knelt down beside her, and looked mortified. He cradled her head in his hands.

Arthur stroked the boy’s back to give him courage. The boy was looking at the two dead soldiers with misgivings. “Do you know what happened?”

“They did something bad,” the boy answered.

“She’s alive,” Merlin sighed with relief. He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Do you know her name?”

The boy shrugged. “Elsthyr.”

“Did the others follow her? Is she their leader?” Arthur asked and Perrin nodded. “Come, let’s head back.”

“I’m staying here,” Merlin said quietly as he hunched down next to the girl. “In case they come back.”

“I will bring him home,” the prince got to his feet and regarded Merlin with concern.

“What do we do about them?” Merlin regarded the soldiers. They had not stirred a moment. Their lives were already lost.

“We must bury them.” He saw Merlin nod mournfully. There was a look of deep worry on his features. Perrin huffed and pulled his hand back, almost out of Arthur’s grip. “We must, they were soldiers. Do you understand?”

Perrin shook his head defiantly.

“Let’s bring you home first.” Arthur got up and sheathed his sword with his free hand. He did not let go of Perrin for a second.

Somewhere deep within, he was glad Merlin was on his side.

  
**\-----38 Merlin-----**

Merlin picked the girl up and laid her close to the bonfire beside the bridge to ensure that she stayed warm in the cool, clear night. The moon was high in the sky now and outshone the blanket of stars.

He retrieved his travel bag, all the while keeping a lookout to see if any of the wild children would return to her side. He placed the mask on a high, broken branch of a sturdy tree, so that the children might see it from afar. Then, he checked her vitals in the way Gaius had explained to him and carefully examined the fur clothes she was wearing. It was made of some kind of pelt to keep her warm. It had the added effect of looking hideous and terrifying. He assumed she had made it herself. Come to think of it, she probably made the mask herself too. He used a scrap of linen from his bag to bind her arms behind her, and another to cover her eyes.

After the fireball had soared over their heads everything had fallen apart. He was too familiar with Arthur’s usual bravado and he knew he would get himself hurt. So, Merlin had stepped in. His violence had consequently almost cost the life of a young girl, nearly destroyed a bridge, scattered the children into the darkness, and had added no answers to what was happening. He felt miserable and useless.

It had also nearly ruined Arthur’s integrity. It still might. The wild children had seen them both in action. Side by side. His only hope was that they did not know that he was the Prince of Camelot. Judging by their dirty faces and their rancid smell, they probably weren’t being taught a lot at their present state. It was a sad affair that would likely mark their lives permanently. His heart bled for either outcome.

He thought about the girl; she was good at what she did at such a young age. She probably had training, though it was hard to tell from where. She might be a druid, perhaps part of one of the nearby clans. Or she could be something entirely different. He could not explain her actions or her violence. He had felt her magic though, it was full of hate and passionate destruction. It was something personal and it had to do with her mother. That was all he understood so far. But that was nothing helpful.

Despite not feeling cold he ended up shivering. His mind was racing and he had to break himself out of his thought patterns. So he spent the next hour burying the two soldiers just away from the road. He used magic to create two deep holes in the ground, but he used his bare hands to cover them with soil out of respect for their lives. The physical labor helped him clear his thoughts. The soldiers had to be buried. He had never made a distinction between those who received respect after their deaths and those who didn’t. He had even buried what was left of Nimueh.

When he returned to the bonfire, it was reduced to hot embers and the occasional solitary flame. He added some more wood and recounted what had happened that evening. The moon had traced a path in the sky and hung low over the trees at the horizon. The girl was still unconscious.

He heard footsteps and turned around. He winced mentally for being so far lost in thought that he hadn’t heard Arthur approach. Arthur joined him by the rekindled fire and took off his gloves to absorb the heat.

“Is he safe?” Merlin asked softly, fighting fatigue.

“Yes. What about her?”

“Her head is injured from her own spell. I don’t know what state she will be in when she wakes. She probably won’t die. I’ve made sure she will sleep a bit longer, so she has a chance to recover.”

Arthur nodded and looked past Merlin at the girl lying on the ground. Merlin held his breath as he regarded the thoughtful look in Arthur’s eyes, made all the brighter by the light of the flames. He followed the shadows that played on his nose and jawline, down to the muscles in his neck. He watched Arthur rub his strong hands in front of the fire. He was glad Arthur was there with him to work through this.

The prince looked at him sternly. “I think I know who she is.” They spoke softly for some time going over the details.

  
**\-----39 Arthur-----**

Arthur was awoken by a hand placed on his shoulder. After much back and forth, Merlin had taken up guard duty, arguing that if the girl awoke, he would need to be ready to react if necessary.

“She’s waking,” Merlin whispered.

Arthur had perhaps slept for a few hours and stretched groggily next to the low fire. He saw that the girl stirred at last in the pale light of a cool dawn. When she moved, it was clear she was in a lot of pain. Arthur moved close to her, in case he had to hold her down.

She realized her arms were bound, turned onto her back and shook her head to try and shake off the cloth that was bound to her face.

“Calm down, your head is injured.” Merlin took off his coat, bundled it, and put it beneath her head.

She turned around, trying to find the source of the voice. “I lay a curse upon you—”

“You will do no such thing,” Arthur interrupted her. “We are here to try to help you. Are you in charge of the wild children?” The girl stilled and lay back, rolling around in the grass to try and find if there was any way to get free. He doubted she would want to answer.

Arthur nudged her with the tip of his boot. “What happened to your mother?”

She stopped moving, painfully laid her head back down, and pulled her legs up. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing, I hope. But the children should be returned to their families,” he answered.

“They killed my father and now my mother is dead. No one deserves their families complete!” She bit back a cry, wincing as she moved her head. Merlin was right, she probably had a concussion.

“What happened to your parents?”

“Camelot killed them! Let me go!”

“Tell us why first.”

“Why should I tell you?”

“You don’t have to,” Merlin spoke up and poked the fire with a stick. “Your father was Urien, right?” She pressed her lips stiffly together. It meant they hit their mark. Merlin continued, looking miserable when he posed the following question, “Did he have magic too?”

“No. Shut up!”

Merlin blinked at Arthur in surprise. He frowned. They hadn’t anticipated that.

Hilde had been so grateful for Perrin’s return that she had sat down with him and gone over the details of the past year-and-a-half. How strange events had happened around Urien’s home and how he had kept his daughters, Brigitta and Yves, mostly out of sight.

The youngest, Yves, was an unhealthy child with some severe mental problems. The Camelot patrols had quickly assumed that Urien had magic and although there was no proof, they had hanged him from the large oak tree next to the intersection at The Crossroads.

Urien had been the town’s leader, and had gathered connections for trade and had motivated the young men to pick up their arms when the Saxons or Cenred’s men wandered too close. The Crossroads had been a solid line of defense for Camelot, but now their village was decrepit and the people had turned to burglary, drinking, gambling, and fornication. The fear of the Elsthyr had not been enough to drive them towards picking a new leader. None had wanted the job.

Then the children had gone missing. One by one they were lured out, mostly at night. And they never returned. There were probably over twenty missing now, and they had turned wild, living in the woods.

Arthur had heard as much during his dinner at the Brass Cleaver as well. The Elsthyr, it had to be Urien’s daughter. Urien never had any magic, that’s what Perrin’s mother had told him. The phrase still rung in his ears, “ _They had to hang_ someone _.”_

Arthur knelt beside the girl then and put a hand on her shoulder. Her father wasn’t the one with magic. If they could believe her word. “Your mother then?”

“Curse you, no one can get to her now!” she wailed and sobbed. Arthur knew the girl was tough as nails but that the fight had also worn her out. And she was in pain.

“Where is your younger sister?”

“Why do you care?” She tried to kick Arthur. Still blindfolded, she didn’t know where he was and missed.

This time Merlin’s voice had an edge to it. “Your magic is imprecise, Brigitta, your spells are flawed and you are limited to one element. You’re a beginner, a joke. You haven’t had enough training to really protect the children. Do you really think they should suffer or are you actually trying to rescue them?”

The fight went out of her for a moment. She turned her head on Merlin’s jacket, pointing her face into Merlin’s direction at last. “Who are you?”

“Your revenge on the soldiers was sloppy. You were discovered and you put everyone in danger.” Merlin glanced at Arthur who raised his brows at him.

“It’s too late. Everything is too late…” The girl shook her head, she was crying.

“Brigitta, what happened to your mother?” Arthur pressed.

“She didn’t wake up. She just…” The girl’s body convulsed and she let out a guttural cry reserved for losing the ones they most deeply loved.

“Where is your little sister?” Merlin pressed.

“She died already last year. Now let me go!”

Arthur drew his sword. “We will take off your blindfold, but don’t you think for a second about resorting to your tricks.” He undid the cloth but he kept her hands tied behind her back.

She blinked for a few seconds, getting used to the light of the flames and eyed them both.

“You!” Brigitta growled at Merlin and moved forward until the tip of Arthur’s sword pressed down against her shoulder. She saw the sheen of the razor sharp edge next to her neck and stopped, but spat at Merlin.

Merlin made himself small, and spoke, “This is not about me. You are old enough to find a way in this world. You won’t get caught easily, and you already have some skills. The children you took don’t have any of that. Tell us where they are.”

“You’re with them! You’re with the soldiers!”

“Are you stupid?” Arthur interjected. “You’ve seen what he can do, how is he possibly with _them_?”

“Shut up!” Brigitta shook herself again, trying against the restraints around her wrists. Though her cheeks were still wet with tears, her expression was fierce.

Merlin stood up and walked some distance away. “They are close. I’m certain of it. You discovered the soldiers last night on their patrol. They were the same men who ended your father’s life to set an example, and to fetch a reward from the king. You live near here. Your mother took care of you but now she’s gone. And you don’t know what to do. How am I doing so far?”

Brigitta blinked at Merlin but stayed quiet. Arthur removed his sword edge from her throat. Merlin walked over to the bridge and looked down into the gorge. “Your mother told you what to do. She lived in grief. I expect your little sister needed help but you couldn’t get help anymore. So you took what you could, you had the other children help you steal.

“Perhaps you thought of returning to the village, but by then, the situation there was really bad. No one behaves anymore. So, now you don’t want to give the children back to their parents.”

“Shut up, shut up!”

“It’s difficult to live out there in the woods. You can’t do it. You can’t lead them. Bring the children home, Brigitta. It will force their parents to set an example, a good one this time. The only reason they misbehave is to escape their grief. They know how you feel, they’ve lost everything they care about too.”

“Then what, you will kill me?” she spat.

“No,” Arthur said.

It was Merlin’s turn to be surprised.

“Leave. Travel far and we will not pursue you. You are young, I’m sure someone will need some extra hands somewhere. You can take care of yourself.”

Brigitta looked up at Arthur without fully understanding. “You are letting me go?”

“Don’t make me rethink this,” Arthur warned. He undid the straps that held her arms behind her, tied into impossible knots by Merlin.

At last she pulled her arms forward, brushed several strands of hair out of her eyes, and wiped the tear stains from her cheeks.

“They’re probably hungry,” Merlin said. “Let’s bring them home.”

The girl let out a sigh, balled her fists and lead the way through the cool dawn.

  
***

It wasn’t until late that evening that Arthur climbed back onto the seat of the cart. Fuclo had been roughly woken by the prince. Arthur didn’t mention the escapade of the previous evening, which still made his cheeks flush. Because nothing had been stolen Fulco had received his extra silver.

When Arthur had brought the children home, the village had erupted in an elated buzz of excitement. All of the twenty-one dirty, snotty children were delivered to their parents, and some of the others that were from nearby settlements were taken in to be returned to their homes the following days. Everyone at The Crossroads was outside that evening, feasting, laughing and nearly everyone cried, grown men included. Their families were whole again.

Merlin had guarded the train of children from behind when they entered the village and had stayed mostly out of sight after that. If anyone was thinking that Brigitta was behind it, they did not say it. All the honors, heartfelt gratitude, and kissing of hands were reserved for Arthur alone. He spoke at length with Hilde about the future of The Crossroads, and what would be best for everyone.

Moreover, he had turned down the feast they offered in his honor, telling the parents stately that their children were cold and hungry and that they needed clean clothes and their parents around them. Also, he and Merlin needed to head back home. What Arthur hadn’t said was that Holden would have their heads for being half a day late.

Merlin had been quiet all the while. He had collected the rest of their materials from their room at The Brass Cleaver and fetched Llamrei from the stables. Arthur was worried. Merlin hadn’t had any sleep that night and was operating on fumes.

At last they were on their way, riding out of The Crossroads; Arthur with the reins in his hands and Merlin with an extra blanket over his shoulders and a basket on his lap. Perrin’s mother had given them a basket with a warm, fresh bread, and was filled with mushrooms and cheese for on the way. Llamrei was calmly trotting along the path. A thick mist had settled in the woodland and the going was slow.

“You let her go," Merlin said at last. He held the blanket tightly around him.

Despite the cold air, Arthur suddenly felt too warm for his autumn coat. His hands were instantly sweaty inside his leather gloves. Merlin’s voice was deep and hoarse, but his question had been light and inquisitive. And full of wonder. Arthur’s body responded before he had even begun puzzling for an answer.

“Yes,” he said simply. The thick mist was clinging to his hair and pinning it to his forehead. He was somewhat relieved about it, as he wouldn’t look like he was sweating. He had let her go. To his own mind it sounded strange. “Needless to say, it won’t be something we can ever discuss with anyone.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin acknowledged briefly. He was ready to slip back into his normal role.

Arthur dreaded it, because it meant Merlin would close himself off again entirely. Until they returned to the castle, it would be the last time that he could speak to him openly. They would be entertaining guests for some time and need to be on their guard even more than usual. There was so much he longed to talk about. Even if Merlin couldn’t be honest with him, the doorway was still open and he took a shot. “What would you have done, facing the Elsthyr—I mean Brigitta, if I hadn’t known about your magic?”

Merlin was ducked into his blanket. He stretched and looked like a rolled up old carpet. He regarded Arthur from the corner of his eyes curiously and Arthur nearly melted. He tried to act aloof about it and consequently nearly steered the horses off the path into the verge.

Merlin held onto the cart, in order not to fall off. He wore a slight frown and shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been able to stop you from trying to protect those men. You wouldn’t have listened to me. I can only hope she would have chosen to conserve her energy and simply knock you out.” In the thick mist Merlin’s voice didn’t carry. It sounded like they were entirely alone in the world. “Otherwise, er, I would try to do something that wouldn’t look like it was me doing it.”

Arthur frowned. He might have spent his whole life not knowing that magic aided his battles. He could have returned each time convinced of his own abilities until he was blinded into believing his enemies were weak. It was dangerous. “Did I win any of my battles by myself? Were _any_ of my victories my own?”

Merlin chuckled. “Nearly every time. I don’t interfere if I don’t have to.”

He said it so lightly that Arthur was appeased, for now. He would not have to reconsider each of his battles to see if he was actually as good as he thought he was. After all, for all his victories he counted, he was now certain that he would not stand a chance if he ever stood pitted against Merlin. “Did you… have you ever used magic on me?”

Merlin slouched and guarded his expression. Arthur knew what that meant. When he replied cautiously, “No, not like that,” what he understood was: _don’t ask, I couldn’t tell you anyway._ He felt confused and frustrated.

He thought back to the day that he put the pieces together. They were in Gaius’ workroom, leafing through an old stuffy tome. He even remembered the smell of its leather backing. The long page had contained information about the Birugderc and its ancient curse. Gaius had summarized it for them: ‘ _It can only be seen or heard by those who have powerful magic._ ’ There was something he had missed. He hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. “How powerful are you exactly?”

Merlin remained quiet. He recalled how Merlin told him he had struck Nimueh down—he was certain he had defeated her forever. And she had been strong. Very strong. Merlin had said as much himself. But Merlin remained silent. Now, it seemed that he was reluctant once more to answer. Had he driven him too far? He pressed on. “Could it be you don’t know?”

“I don’t,” Merlin acknowledged.

Merlin looked deeply worried again, exhausted, and retreated within himself. Something was eating him up from the inside and Arthur didn’t know what it was. He did not understand. And he felt more frustrated than ever at not being able to help.

Then, to his surprise, Merlin spoke again. “I’ve never trained, there is precious little to read.” He fidgeted with the blanket. “I’m not sharp, not resourceful. When I stepped out last night, I wasn’t sure what I was facing or what I should do.”

Arthur’s heart swelled that Merlin hadn’t closed himself off to him, that he was _responding_ and telling him something more. “You did all that without training?”

Merlin turned towards him, dumbfounded. Clearly it was not the reply he had been expecting. Arthur barked a laugh at it and he saw Merlin roll his eyes with a small smile. Arthur bit his lip. He needed that smile. He missed it.

They rode on in silence for a while. Arthur thought back to hours of strategizing about war and great battles in the council chambers, which kicked his brain into action, despite the numbing fog and the cool air drifting into his sleeves. “What you did back there...” He searched for the words. “You are probably very powerful. And you are a warrior. I can’t believe I’ve just never seen it.”

Beside him, Merlin sat up straight.

Arthur smirked. Merlin _was_ proud about what he could do. He kept his gaze fixed to the road ahead and he swelled to think that he could make Merlin feel good about himself. Even if he was still turning him down. “I didn’t understand your tactics, at first,” he pressed. “Instead of killing it, you spoke to it and asked it what it wanted. I’ve not… I mean, I wouldn’t have used that tactic.”

“You would have ended up killing a kid,” Merlin whispered. “Like I almost did.”

“I know.” He didn’t want to dive into that topic so he stayed quiet for a while. The mist was clearing somewhat and they reached the bridge once more. There were now several planks missing from the center, and the whole surface was leaning oddly to one side and looking even more ramshackle than on the way there. Arthur stopped the horse and hopped down to take a look.

“We’ll never get across.” He observed the horse and the cart and shook his head. The next bridge was miles away and even narrower. “We’ll have to go around.” He’d have to speak to his father about this when they returned.

Merlin pushed the food basket and the old blanket off him and climbed down on wobbly legs. He joined Arthur next to the cliff side and looked at the old wooden beams and the way they had been fastened. “Arthur?”

“What is it now?”

“You’ll want to bring that.” Merlin pointed up to the tree branch behind Arthur where the Elsthyr’s head was hanging off a branch. It still looked monstrous.

“I probably should, before anyone else gets any ideas.” He lifted his arms to grab a hold of it, found that he couldn’t quite reach it, and instead climbed the lowest branches so he could take it down. Before he landed there was an ear-piercing screech followed by several cracks and bustling sounds. “Merlin!” He spun around and looked at his servant standing on the side of the gorge. By himself.

What was more, the bridge was straight again. The missing planks were in place though wet from the stream they had been obviously soaking in during the night. Whatever gaps there had been between the beams were solidly hooked back into place. Merlin looked pale and guilty.

“For goodness sake, _Mer_ lin, you could have warned me you were going to do that!” He stalked over to him with the huge mask in his arms. “Don’t tell me, I didn’t really have to climb that tree either.”

Merlin scratched behind his ear and shrugged. “Not really,” he grinned uneasily.

“What was that about then?” He looked at the bridge and approached Merlin. “You don’t want me to watch you?”

A fox cry echoed through the mist. Merlin’s brows knitted together. “I’m just not used to it.”

“That wasn’t exactly subtle, Merlin, in case you hadn’t noticed. Neither was last night.” He held the mask under one arm and stood in front of the warlock who smiled coyly. Arthur noticed Merlin was trying to hide his relief. And he was looking directly at Arthur again, something he hadn’t done for _days_. His wide blue eyes staring joyfully into his own.

It took every inch of his restraint not to step into Merlin’s personal space and claim him. It was clear to Arthur, Merlin felt _good_ doing magic. His chest constricted happily with the mere thought that he was bringing him some form of pleasure. For a moment, he saw his desire reflected. The way Merlin suddenly inhaled as if he’d forgotten to breathe and shivered, and how his eyes were half-lidded. It all happened in an instant and then the moment was gone. Arthur’s heart was in his throat.

Merlin huffed and replied loosely, “You’re not exactly known for your subtlety either, you know.”

He raised his brows, watching Merlin stifling a yawn. “Here, you’ve worked hard enough for this. You can pack it up for me now.” He dropped the large head into Merlin’s arms, who caught it with difficulty. “Then get yourself something to eat, you look like something dragged you through a bush, backwards.”

“It did,” Merlin complained, holding up the trophy.

Soon the Elsthyr’s head was placed at the back of the cart, carefully placed away from all the food. Merlin had climbed back onto the bench and wrapped himself up once more. Along the way Merlin prepared some food and offered it to Arthur. He refused until Merlin had eaten his fill.

  
***

Merlin climbed back onto the seat of the cart, after having slept on the pile of folded linens for a few hours. Arthur had ridden slowly and it was now late at night. The mists had entirely cleared up.

“There’s something I have to ask of you,” Merlin said. He sounded better, stronger now that he’d had some rest at last.

“Actually, I need to ask something first.”

Merlin frowned but stayed quiet.

“I’ve been thinking. I need to know something. It’s a matter of conscience. And of course, I know you can’t tell me everything, you’ve made that abundantly clear. But for the strategy for Camelot, when we talk in the council meetings, you are paying attention, right?”

Llamrei gave a snort and a twist of her head. Merlin answered, groggy, “Yes, mostly.”

“You know how we discuss the wars and incursions, how many troops we have where. You know about the kings that will attend us and who our allies and enemies are, even if they don’t know it themselves.”

“Your point?” He sounded irritated.

“If we should go to war… Would you fight for Camelot if it came to that? If it meant protecting our men against invading armies, or if we take spies into custody?”

Merlin thought about it and answered with caution, “I would do what I can, without revealing myself.”

“You could kill anyone in a snap.”

“No, Arthur, I—”

“Merlin, what if… what if you ever turn against us?” He hated himself for asking, but he had to if he could follow his choices conscientiously.

“That’s _never_ going to happen, Arthur. I will always be loyal.”

“But what if—"

Merlin groaned. “No, listen. When you knight one of your soldiers, you believe they would lay down their life for you. Just because your father wouldn’t place a sword on my shoulders, doesn’t mean I would do any less.”

“Everyone says that,” Arthur grumbled. “It’s not something you ever know.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“And what if it turns out different? You can’t know _everything_.”

“I know that _you’ll_...” He paused abruptly.

“That I what, Merlin? What do you know about me that is for certain?”

Merlin bit his lip and shook his head. Arthur clenched his jaw as he knew that Merlin was about to go silent on him again. He saw him push his shoulders back and brace.

“It’s this destiny thing again, isn’t it? Merlin? And you’re too _bloody_ scared to—”

Merlin snapped and turned to him. “It’s not just me, it’s you too, you half-baked disaster!”

Arthur fumed, “I _would_ know about it if you’d just tell me!” This always happened. Each time he’d reached a new point with Merlin he would poke and prod until Merlin couldn’t stand him anymore. Every damned time. It seemed that he couldn’t help himself and always ruined his chances.

This time, Merlin continued, “My name, it’s in some great big prophecy. I don’t understand it. But so is yours. We are supposed to restore Camelot to greatness. You and me.”

“Together?”

“So it seems. Ridiculous, right?”

“So that’s what you’ve been on about? That’s the big secret? Surprise, Arthur, you’re going to be King of Camelot!” He cursed under his breath. He couldn’t believe how stupid Merlin was sometimes. _Of course_ they were going to be great for Camelot.

“Don’t look at me, I’m just trying to get you there alive.”

Arthur laughed vehemently at that. When he was done he felt slightly better.

_You and me._

_Together_.

Merlin would be good for Camelot. Whether or not he took credence in such prophecies, he knew for certain that his choice in Merlin, wasn’t wrong. Merlin just hadn’t come around to see it yet. He offered a confident grin following their conversation and watched how Merlin reacted: doubtful at first, then came the realization, followed by a bashful shrug.

Dawn was upon them as Arthur saw the first flags of the citadel rise over the canopy in the distance. He also understood that Merlin wasn’t wrong either. Camelot had a long way to go before accepting Merlin for who he truly was. But it had to happen. He just needed to think about how. He leaned back and let Llamrei take them the familiar route home.

“You had a question for me too,” he recalled.

“A request, in fact.” Merlin looked down and began to explain.

  
**\-----40 Merlin-----**

Once they arrived back in the citadel, their fatigue from their journey was dismissed by necessity. When Dennet came to collect Llamrei, he was solemn and quiet. Merlin wanted to ask Dennett about the sale, but instead, he shot Arthur a baleful look about selling Royse. Arthur merely lifted his eyebrows as the matter had already been discussed.

In the meantime, Holden had really missed them, it seemed. This was made apparent by his purple face as he blew up at Merlin about delaying the trip before they had even gotten off the cart. Arthur made a huge spectacle about him being the reason for the delay and hoisting the large trophy out of the cart, dangling it in front of Holden’s sputtering face.

Merlin forgave him, slightly.

They both fell into their regular patterns. There were no training sessions, ceremonies, or council meetings for the remaining days until the arrival of the first kings, and so Merlin ended up mostly bound to Gaius’ workshop creating potions from dawn to dusk, with the only exception being to dress Arthur and to serve him his meals. It seemed as if everything had returned to normal.

News traveled fast in the castle and word was on every town crier’s lips of how Prince Arthur had defeated a great magical beast lurking near The Crossroads. The prince had brought back the beast’s head and it was taken straight to the vaults, to be placed with his other trophies and collected treasures.

Gifts had streamed in much to King Uther’s surprise and delight. Before they knew it, the tales had spread across the land, nearly wiping out the memory of King Galorian’s murder on the tournament grounds entirely. Arthur had gladly accepted all the praise. He didn’t speak a word about it to Merlin and that was fine. In fact, they hadn’t spoken more than five words together in the course of several days.

Gaius had asked some questions about the Elsthyr and looked it up in his books. When he couldn’t find anything after exhausting all his resources, he had given up and presumed that Merlin had spoken the truth. There was nothing else Merlin was planning to tell, and Brigitta would hopefully be traveling far away and applying herself usefully. His lips were sealed.

Brigitta. She was the first sorcerer Arthur had set free. Beside himself of course. For that reason alone he would never forget her. Whenever he thought about their journey a small smile played on his lips. Arthur had done a good thing this time. Although he was still sulking about Royse, it was more important that they had reached an understanding about magic and, apparently, about where they stood. To his relief, Arthur had let it go.

It wasn’t what he wanted though. It was the opposite of what he wanted. But it was what should have happened and that was that. If the knights were brave enough to lay down their lives for their king and his people, Merlin could put aside his feelings. And Arthur was a knight like any other. He would forget Merlin soon enough. He was convinced. And he was in pain.

“Tell me again about King Olaf?” Merlin asked uneasily.

“I’ll need that extraction when you’re done with it. King Olaf, let me see...” Gaius returned to his side of the workbench and cleaned one of his tools to continue working on his latest concoction—which was starting to smell quite vile. “He is the son of a Nordic king who came from across the sea. They managed to secure lands on the eastern parts of the kingdom and Olaf succeeded him. Some people say that they wear the skin of bears for strength.”

“Is there any truth in that?”

“Sometimes the truth lies in something you believe, rather than a material quality.”

Merlin nodded absently, unfocused.

“Well,” Gaius continued with one sharp eyebrow lifted, observing whether Merlin was working according to the correct steps. “They are known to be nothing short of fierce. These men can make Uther look reasonable and understanding. But make no mistake, they have a highly developed culture and can easily be insulted. Their weapons and armor really are formidable.”

“Better than our royal quartermaster crafts? Surely not.”

“Olaf is a king, he too has a royal quartermaster. One is never finished learning their crafts. You cannot make assumptions. The moment you do, your enemy wins. And watch out with that, you nearly spilled ink into your extraction.”

Merlin looked up from his work with heavy lidded eyes. The workbench was littered with leaves and stalks, filled and empty potion vials, labels, and a half empty inkwell. The feather pen in Merlin’s hand was ruffled at the edges from overuse. They had created and replenished over a hundred potions between them in the past few days, stocked up the large glass containers with important potion bases, and Merlin was certain that he had sniffed up quite a bit more fumes than intended the previous night, making his head swim and his reaction sluggish.

Gwen entered the workroom in a hurry. “Hello Gaius, Merlin. The scouts have just arrived and announced that King Alined and King Olaf are approaching and will arrive within the hour. Er, Merlin, that means, well, they need you in the castle.”

Gaius greeted her kindly and Merlin waved to her with a hand full of ink blotches.

She lifted her eyebrows at him and chuckled, “You’ve been busy I see.”

“Worked day and night,” he nodded.

“You have a little…” She pointed at his cheek. He wiped with a dirty finger and the small ink spot on his cheek smeared out further.

“Oh, Merlin!” Gaius hung his head.

“Shall I stall them so you can wash?”

Merlin smiled at her in relief. He trusted her resourcefulness entirely and he would not be punished for a small delay. “Just a few minutes, I’ll be right there. Thank you, Gwen.” He took a cloth to his cheek, managing to smear it all the way over to his ear.

Gwen shook her head at him and leaned over. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to help you out now, I need to help Morgana into her silver dress and I’m taking no risks.”

“That’s a risk in itself, isn’t it?” Merlin grinned.

“Be ready in ten minutes, alright?” Gwen’s tried to look serious but her dark eyes couldn’t hide her cheeky smile.

As Merlin waved goodbye Gaius took a wet, dirty wad to Merlin’s face and brushed it roughly against his cheek until Merlin wondered whether he had any skin left at all.

“Merlin,” Gaius began.

“I know, I know. Everything will be fine, Gaius. I have to go now.”

He was out the door before hearing another sermon about his behavior and rushed towards Arthur’s chambers.

When he was about to enter the room he realized there were still faded ink stains on his hands from his endless potion label administration. He pushed through the door at exactly the same moment as Arthur was leaving. They almost collided in a tangle of arms and elbows. Their noses nearly touched. Merlin’s heart was in his throat.

“You’re _late_ , Merlin,” Arthur snapped.

Merlin stumbled a step back and pretended not to be flustered, nor to see Arthur’s eyes shift purposefully to his mouth before he turned around and stormed back towards his wardrobe. The prince was wearing his brown breeches and blue shirt. Other than that he wasn’t dressed yet. Merlin licked his lips. “I’m sorry, sire,” he began.

“I don’t have time for any excuses, I just need to be ready when they arrive.”

Merlin’s head swam and his gut was telling his body to get into action in all sorts of ways. Things weren’t back to normal at all. He had tried so hard to push it from his mind.

“When you’re _ready_ , _Mer_ lin!” Arthur stood by his wardrobe.

He crossed the distance quickly and took out Arthur’s dark red sleeveless jerkin and helped him into it quickly. It was followed by a heavy black velvet doublet with dark buttons. He had some trouble getting it over his arms and to fit well over his shoulders. Arthur was stronger than he was a year go, he reminded himself. His mind went places following that conclusion, but he shook his head and attached the cuffs. He ensured it all stayed put with two belts for added effect, inwardly fighting with himself to look that everything was in place, and not to look at all.

He picked up the silver decorated hair brush and ensured Arthur’s golden locks were all straightened out. After that, he opened the large chest next to the wardrobe and unfolded the prince’s cloak with the Pendragon crest embroidered on the back. He fastened it carefully around Arthur’s neck, staring at the closing pins of the buckle which gave him trouble more often than not. He fumbled.

“Any time today?” Arthur pushed.

Merlin frowned. He was still such a prat. Then again, he might just be trying to lighten the tension growing between them each second he lingered. He wasn’t certain whether to be offended or relieved.

“Almost… got it.”

It clicked.

It held.

He was starting to become stressed now. There were noises coming from the lower town already; the people were cheering. One of the caravans must be passing through. Arthur looked over his shoulder to the window, agitated.

Merlin made sure the cloak was centered before handing Arthur his sword to secure followed by his mother’s ring. He knelt down for the prince to step into his high black leather boots and laced them up expertly, his long fingers working more quickly than they had ever done before.

Last but not least he picked up the golden coronet decorated with large shining pearls set in filigree. Despite the rush he placed it carefully over Arthur’s head. It was a matter of pride to him to crown him thus. It always had been. One day Arthur would be king and he would be wearing a proper crown. Until that time, the prince had to know, had to feel that this moment was the ritual that enforced his claim.

He wasn’t certain whether he was doing it as well to reaffirm his own dedication and self-denial. If it was the case, it worked. He understood even more powerfully the distance between their stations. He was the Prince of Camelot, he would reign and unite the lands of Albion. To Merlin, he was worth protecting with every fibre of his being.

Arthur looked regal. His broad shoulders were covered by the thick red mantle and it made him look twice as powerful as usual. The red stood out against his blond hair. The dark blue shirt underneath matched his eyes. He couldn’t help smiling a little in appreciation. And in that moment he saw Arthur’s expression change from apprehension to confidence. Merlin had approved him. He suddenly stood more upright, rolled his shoulders back, and pushed his cape sideways to put a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Merlin knew he shouldn’t have that effect on Arthur, and yet again perhaps no one else in the household would be more capable to tell him he was ready. He gave a small nod. “After you, sire," Merlin said. His voice felt strange. He held the door open to the prince who dashed through to meet with the other members of the house in front of the steps in the royal courtyard.

Merlin stayed behind a minute and collected himself. His heart was pounding loudly and he couldn’t calm it down. It wasn’t just the nerves of the first two kings arriving, it wasn’t just the fact that he had nearly made Arthur late. It was _everything_ that just walked out of that door. Everything Arthur was and stood for, everything he said—even when he was annoying. He felt guilty for his longing and yet the guilt was not powerful enough to shut it out. Not entirely.

Footsteps ran past the door. Serving maids were rushing to get ready and join the staff on the steps. He should be there. He had to be there. Holden would have his hide. Again. He took a deep breath and started running. Along the way he joined the two serving maids and they all made it just in time to watch the first king pass through the inner gate and be welcomed by everyone. Arthur turned around briefly to check that he was there, and he offered a guilty smile.

Everyone’s attention turned to King Alined who arrived riding a beautiful black mare with his manservant on a donkey behind him. A household staff of five additional servants and a young boy followed, all riding on smaller horses. The horses were beautifully decorated in royal attire to show rank. The saddle blankets were equally exquisite, decorated in finely woven patterns further displaying their wealth.

King Alined wore several layers of thick doublets, a black sleeveless gambeson, thick mail finished with the royal tabard, which featured a prancing goat, and a long, rough cloak. His crown was decorated with golden lacework and was decorated with many jewels.

“Alined, you are most welcome on this momentous occasion,” Uther declared.

“Momentous,” Alined said, showing his teeth in an unfriendly smile. “Let us hope so.”

Introductions were made on the steps. Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana were introduced to King Alined and Trickler was introduced to Holden and asked to go over the household regulations straight away.

Trickler was an older looking man, balding, with scruff on his cheek from their long journey down, and an unfriendly expression. His clothes were sober, apart from the silver ring he wore on his index finger on his right hand. He called the boy, Tybalt was his name, to his side. Tybalt was his son and would not be in anyone’s way, Trickler assured. He had recently lost his mother and it would mean a great deal if he could stay with them at the castle. Holden reluctantly agreed, stating that he would have to remain in Trickler’s humble room and the man agreed instantly.

Merlin turned his attention back to King Alined, who was speaking in high spirits to Uther. Merlin could smell the man’s sweat from where he stood and assumed the king had not changed his robes during the whole journey. He felt pity for Trickler then who would immediately have to prepare a bath for the man after sitting on a horse for several weeks. He considered offering to help, but he would first wait to see whether Holden told him to do anything specific.

The gate watchers trumpeted again and the congregation turned around to witness King Olaf and his entourage enter through the gate at that instant.

King Olaf was a sight to behold, nearly twice as broad as King Alined, with very fine interlinking chains across his haubergeon, and instead of a cloak he wore thick furs that made him look even larger. The patterned leather bracelets on his arms were decorated with golden studs, and his crown was made of solid gold, with a part in the center folding down across the nose, which cast an intimidating shadow across his brow. His coat of arms showed a rugged prancing bear, complete with teeth. Although the horses were not decorated at all and dressed lightly instead, it was the wagon behind King Olaf which drew everyone’s attention.

It was pulled by a formidable looking horse, the carriage itself was entirely made out of solid wood, carved with details on every possible surface. They depicted animals, people, and symbols, with a scene at the front-end that showed a man struggling with snakes that surrounded him on all sides. A four-footed beast bit him on one side. Merlin had no doubt these were important sagas to King Olaf and his men.

On the carriage sat his daughter, Lady Vivian, enveloped in a large, flawless white mantle of fur, lighter than anything Merlin or the staff gasping beside him had ever seen. The white fur mantle offered little contrast to her pale skin, light blonde hair, nor her light green dress. Together they made her look ethereal. She was a slender woman, young and with a perceptive gaze about her, though with her chin held high it looked like she would not acknowledge anyone she deemed unworthy of her attention.

Every part of her was manicured to perfection, and she demanded general awe. Her hair was decorated with pearls and her small hands were decorated with large stones, which nearly put Morgana’s wardrobe to shame. All in all, her arrival outshone King Alined and his entire group of servants put together.

As King Olaf approached them across the courtyard, King Alined attempted to save face by making a show of offering his generous gifts of fine, richly colored fabrics, delicate dresses, goblets, and precious stones to King Uther and his generous household. Uther did not touch the gifts but instead let two servants and Gwen take the items inside through the back entrance. He showed generous appreciation of the gifts and King Alined was escorted inside by George to be shown to his royal chambers.

King Alined, Trickler, and the servants, followed by Tybalt, had only just cleared the grounds and the horses were taken away by Dennett, when King Olaf demanded all the space in the courtyard with his following.

He stiffly got off his horse and greeted King Uther with a bear hug, which to the horrified amusement of the staff standing on the steps was entirely unexpected, and likely to be unwelcome. Nevertheless Uther put a hesitant arm around the man and Merlin bit his lips together to keep from grinning.

King Olaf was not known to be a gentle man, he had frequently made expeditions into Camelot and into Essetir in the past, and had occupied territory. His fighting men were among the most difficult to drive back. In some respects they were worse than the Saxons. Nevertheless, he had arrived with a small group of four servants and two knights, Arni and Gudrun. They were not to be called Sirs. It wasn’t as Holden had expected, which was six servants.

King Olaf made an even larger show of the gifts he brought, and the man’s voice carried easily across the courtyard. Merlin had a feeling that this was the sort of man who could not whisper even if he tried. Olaf showered Uther with precious bear furs and hides, whalebone, and rare amber from Norway. They additionally offloaded from the back of the cart a pair of horns which were massive, solid, and twisted.

Arthur shot Merlin an alarmed glance. They were horns of an Elsthyr, or whatever it was. Merlin met his gaze in surprise and Uther too seemed rather put out by the gift. The king recollected himself quickly and asked after it. Olaf said they came from animals twice the size of horses, called elks, which were wild and ferocious. It had taken five men to bring this one down. This appeased King Uther greatly and he accepted it. Only because Merlin knew he thought that Arthur had defeated the same beast by himself. The _magical_ beast.

He saw Arthur, pale, being brought forward to greet King Olaf and meet his daughter. As they became acquainted, King Olaf leaned towards King Uther and spoke quietly to him in those very whispers which Merlin had deemed impossible.

Holden spun then and ascended the steps. He turned to Merlin and ordered him to return inside immediately and rearrange the locations of two rooms for Olaf’s knights to stay. They had to be switched with Holden’s own room, which Merlin knew was the only decent one left to trade out. He wasn’t certain if he could do it within the time Holden demanded for it, but he acknowledged the task anyway and pushed his shoulders free from the row of servants and climbed the stairs in a hurry.

“Merlin?”

It was Gaius’ voice. He stopped and turned around. Gaius was standing next to Uther and Olaf. He stopped. All eyes were either on him or on Gaius. One of Olaf’s servants was holding the horns in his arms and Merlin paled visibly.

“I need you to help me with something. It is a matter of urgency.”

Merlin looked helplessly at Holden, who positively glared back. Holden shoved the servant who had stood next to Merlin, Cainnech, into action to arrange the rooms immediately. Merlin gave Cainnech an apologetic look and ran down to meet Gaius who was standing in the courtyard. Which, of course, was the one place where Merlin shouldn’t be standing, and thus he was liable to receive a lot of attention that he didn’t want for himself. He avoided looking at Arthur, focusing only on his mentor.

Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin flinched and held his arms stiffly by his side. “This is a delicate topic which cannot wait. I need you to join me in my workshop.”

“Yes, Gaius.”

Together they walked away and Merlin didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Just seeing those large horns, even more impressive than the ones Arthur had brought home, did things to Merlin’s stomach which they shouldn’t. Logically he knew that there had been a girl in the suit. But he knew nothing of the rituals of these men, nor what stories they would tell about their lands.

Once the door closed behind them, Gaius didn’t walk to his workbench. He stood for a few moments and when he turned around. Merlin shook.

“Merlin,” Gaius began.

Merlin was beside himself with apprehension.

“Lady Vivian is gravely affected by an affliction. We did not hear of this on the road for the risk of letters being intercepted. King Olaf says she has a condition. It is extremely private. He also says that people might believe she is cursed. I need you to look into what it is.”

“A sickness or a curse?” He felt guilty for the immense relief that flooded over him. It didn’t seem to have anything to do with Elsthyrs or elks or any sort of large horns, and there were no questions about his trip to The Crossroads or how it was possible that Arthur had defeated something like that by himself. Or, in Gaius’ case, what part _he’d_ had to play.

“It is of an utmost delicate nature, Merlin.”

He nodded and let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “How am I to go about this? What do I need to do?”

“I am permitted access to her chambers, and by extension so are you. She is placed in the eastern tower and I would prefer not to walk the steps each day. I am not yet back to my full strength. So, I will need you to fill in for me from time to time.”

“Of course, Gaius. Anything you need.”

“Then please tend to her. Her maidservant is called Eda and stays with her night and day. She does not leave Lady Vivian’s side. Tell me your findings.”

“If it’s magic…”

“Then the chances are very high that this magic comes from overseas and this will make it very difficult for us to learn the cause.”

Merlin swallowed and nodded. “How old is she?”

“Olaf mentioned she would turn nineteen next summer.”

Then they were more or less the same age. “Anything else I need to know before I see to her?”

“Yes, her father is immensely protective of her.” Gaius gave him a pointed look. “Whatever you do, do not cross the man, on pain of death.”

Merlin nodded solemnly and headed out. Once more he crossed the castle corridors among the faces of strangers who were being shown all the work areas and the right staircases to serve their lords and lady.

He passed Tybalt who stood in the entrance hall and looked down over the railing of the staircase down towards the dungeons, treasury, and catacombs. The young boy seemed to be intricately watching the guards downstairs who were conversing about state affairs and gossip. Merlin stopped. The boy looked over his shoulder at him and stood back immediately, somewhat afraid.

“Oh, hey there. Your name is Tybalt, right?”

“Yes?” the boy answered cautiously.

“Hi, my name is Merlin. Where is your father?”

Tybalt shrugged. “Helping the King.”

He probably meant King Alined. Merlin smiled at the boy. He didn’t have any time to entertain, nor could he conjure anything up for the boy to at least entertain himself with. The few servants in the household who had children usually kept them with a sibling or a parent during the day time. He could leave the boy standing there too, but the entrance hall was not a good place. It was an important connection point and often used to update each other on state affairs.

Fortunately Morgana entered the hall and when she saw Merlin talking to the boy she smiled curiously. She wore her body hugging silver dress and was adorned with fine jewelry that accentuated her features. Her hair was down and in curls, which made her look majestic and delicate at the same time.

“Tybalt, have you met Lady Morgana?” Merlin offered.

The boy gaped at her and gave a deep bow.

Merlin used that moment to convey to her with hand signals, flailing, that he had no idea what to do with the boy.

Morgana looked Merlin over once and put her lips together in a knowing smile. “Are you overseeing Merlin’s work today, Tybalt?”

Just as the boy shook his head, Merlin answered awkwardly, “Er, no.”

“Do you have any other tasks then?” Morgana asked him sweetly.

He shook his head again. This time he added, “I haven’t seen this castle yet. I know our castle completely.”

“Why don’t you come with me then, we have many pretty pictures hanging from the walls in the art room. Would you like to see them?” She held out her hand. Merlin absently noted the bracelet that clung to her wrist.

The boy instantly took her hand and looked at Merlin briefly. He nodded. Tybalt followed Morgana while she spoke to him gently and asked him some questions about King Alined’s castle and Deorham.

Merlin was instantly grateful and resumed his path towards Lady Vivian’s tower. He realized on the way there how Lady Morgana had a powerful presence, and how men would cower before her, while children took to her instantly and did not fear her at all. It put a grin on his face. He hoped absently that one day Morgana would have many children of her own surrounding her while the men still knew when to keep their mouths shut.

Once he arrived at the tower door, he knocked and a young woman with impossibly long raven black hair and friendly brown eyes opened up. She was built round and busty, and wore simple robes that hugged her waist and a pleated dress that accentuated her form.

“I’m, er, looking for Eda?”

“Who sent you?”

“My master, Gaius, the royal physician.”

The woman looked into the hallway behind him, nodded, and yanked him inside by his neck scarf. He sputtered as she closed the door and straightened himself back up.

“Alright, here’s the deal. Everything you hear and anything you might see is strictly kept to this room. If you breathe a word—”

“I know, I’ve been instructed. You have my word. I’ve dealt with private issues before.”

She looked him over once critically and nodded. She seemed to be more at ease. “Alright then. I’m Eda, by the way.”

“Merlin.”

The woman nodded and bent down to pick up one of Lady Vivian’s traveling trunks. As she did so Merlin got an eye full of her bust and it was, he had to admit, even more formidable than he suspected a moment ago. He gawked as she lifted the heavy case and brought it around, past the large curtain to Lady Vivian who sat on the edge of the bed.

“Can I, um, help you perhaps?”

Eda put the case down and shook her head. As Merlin joined her, he looked at Lady Vivian directly into her very sharp blue eyes, and bowed deeply.

“This is who he sends me?” Vivian asked in a high voice. She sounded aghast. He felt like a huge disappointment immediately before he’d even begun.

“He’s the physician’s apprentice, my lady,” Eda said without blinking.

She turned to Merlin. “This must be a mistake. I doubt you can tell your left from your right.” Her lip snarled upwards as if she was smelling something foul.

Eda raised her brows and smiled, she picked up a large embroidered cloak out of the travel bag and placed it carefully on the bed beside Lady Vivian. “Well, let’s test his skill then?”

The lady looked him over critically and he felt judged although he wasn’t certain why. He was afraid suddenly that either he would be dismissed just from his looks or his garb, or perhaps even that all his secrets were there for her to see.

“Get on with it, or are you just going to stand there?”

“My lady, my name is Merlin and I am both the physician’s apprentice and Prince Arthur’s personal manservant. I am familiar with brews and potions as well as the history of these lands both written and sometimes unwritten,” he said, looking away. “And I am entirely familiar with discretion. Of course, I don’t know at this moment whether I can help you at all.”

She raised both her eyebrows, wrinkling up her forehead. “I doubt you can. No one has, so far.”

Merlin bit back a reply he might have given Arthur, and offered instead, “My lady, would you tell me the nature of your condition?”

She stood up from the bed and regarded him defiantly. Though she was a foot shorter than Merlin and looked light as a feather, she stood firm and her pointed chin was jutted defiantly. Her hands were balled into fists. Merlin regarded her without revealing any expression on his face, as he usually did. He waited simply for the order to arrive or to pass him by. He neither judged her nor apologized for being there.

When he did not wither under her look of scrutiny, her eyes flashed quickly to Eda and back to him. The maidservant pulled her long black hair back over her shoulders and smiled kindly. “My lady is not visibly ill. But there’s something that ails her. It only comes out from time to time.”

Merlin offered Eda his same impassive expression and nodded. “What are the symptoms?”

Eda hesitated and put down the small jewelry box she had been unpacking. “It starts and then stops. Sometimes we don’t see that it happens. She won’t know where she is, or who she is for some time. Maybe she does something funny.”

Merlin waited. Nothing else was added. “Then what happens after that?”

“Then everything is normal,” Eda smiled.

He paled slightly. He had no idea what the urgency had been about. “Er, how often does it happen?”

“Every day of my life,” Vivian snapped. “It could happen any moment. I’m _not_ crazy!”

“Of course not, my lady," Merlin said. It remained to be seen. “When did it start?”

“When she was a wee baby,” Eda said, earning a brief glare from Lady Vivian.

“Okay,” he said. “May I examine you?”

At that moment a knock came at the door and Gwen walked in. She carried a pail with warm water. Her expression was murderous, though she pretended to look aloof. Merlin knew her long enough. Something was up.

“What will you do?”

Gwen put the pail down with a thump close to the hearth and walked back out without saying a word. Merlin watched her depart.

“Just,”—he had no idea—“look closer, to see if anything was missed before.”

Lady Vivian’s eyes widened. “You will do no such thing! Get out of my sight!”

“No, what I mean is, I will do some tests,” he tried.

“You don’t know what it is any more than the others. I have had enough of these little tests.”

“My lady, there’s no way I can help you if I can’t—”

“I’m not interested!”

“I’m not certain—”

“Eda, are _all_ servants here incapable?”

Merlin felt his ears heat with anger welling up inside him. He thought about Gaius’ warnings that these people could be immensely offended. And that King Olaf was not a man to cross. But Olaf himself had requested this visit, or Merlin would not have been able to get away from Holden’s other task.

“My lady,” he began, “what do _you_ believe it might be?”

The hasty reply she was about to give him died in her throat. She paused and moved her head back in surprise. It was not what she had anticipated. She contemplated and folded her arms in front of her uncertainly.

 _Success_ , Merlin thought. Lady Vivian was insecure, just like most young nobles. Their life was public, laid out before them, and any flaw was a blemish to their worth. Visibly Lady Vivian was flawless, though she could have more to her hips, but she was still young. And she was vicious, this would do well for a queen or a lady.

“It’s like sleep. It’s the same way each time. I go away for a time and I come back. I never remember.” Her light voice was softer this time around, yet still unfriendly.

“Just to be sure, I would like to rule out whether it might be… a curse?” He wasn’t certain what her reaction would be. He did not have to wait for it.

“A curse?!” A deep voice bellowed behind him.

“Father!”

“I never heard such nonsense in my life. Vivian has an old soul!” Olaf’s voice boomed through the room and he rushed to her side. She pushed past Merlin and gave him a big hug.

“What nonsense are they putting into your head, hm?”

Merlin paled.

“Nothing, father.”

“Birger! Escort this young man out.” Olaf’s manservant, a tall young man with blond hair appeared behind him.

“I was just, er… for Gaius,” he pointed out awkwardly.

“Yes, I know. I did not ask him to start putting any nonsense into her head. Put your effort into finding out what it is. Now leave!”

“Yes, sire,” he bowed deeply and followed Birger out. When they reached the hallway, he turned around and looked up to Birger. He was even taller than Merlin. “Am I in trouble?”

“Probably not.” He gave Merlin an unhappy grin with a crooked tooth. “Yet,” he added, and turned back to serve his master.

  
**\-----41 Arthur-----**

With three of the five kings present and two new knights to entertain, a feast was necessary. Throughout the afternoon’s preparations Arthur stayed mostly in the banquet hall to entertain the knights. The sky was a dull gray which hid the sun and the first frost had gotten its hold on the town.

Among the deliveries from The Crossroads, Arthur had discovered a tile game that had been stored in a small wooden box, stashed between the items he had outsourced to Merlin. It now lay out on one of the long dark wooden dining tables and the foreign knights, Arni and Gudrun, were making a spectacle of themselves by trying to figure out how to win it. Sir Leon, Sir Owain, and Sir Kay were merrily taking turns in changing the rules to confuse them.

Around them several servants were decorating the room and placing the tables, working around them as much as they could. The knights didn’t look up once, even though Arthur got up from his seat on the table top to allow for another plate to be set. The tables got moved into a large U-shape and the thrones, from the throne room and from storage, were hauled to the head of the table to allow seats for all five kings; even if the first evening would only see three of them seated and served. The knights were restless and rowdy. Many tankards of ale were strewn on the table between them already and it promised to be a rowdy feast.

The door to the banquet hall opened and closed behind Arthur and suddenly Merlin stood beside him. He was entirely unprepared for the prickle on his skin that raced down his chest and the shiver that followed and he tried to cover it up by doing his best to remain aloof. “Good call on the tiles,” he said, nodding towards the playing knights.

“Oh, er, thanks.” Merlin’s uncertain smile was goofy but real.

“Who on earth sells this?”

“Travelling merchant. Listen, Arthur about that, um...” Merlin held up a scroll. “I’ve got their names.”

Arthur’s demeanor changed instantly. “You did?” He turned away from the knights.

“From the registry, I talked to Josselyn, she is Ferrand’s cousin and confirmed it.”

Arthur took the scroll from him and examined the names of the two fallen soldiers, buried beside the road where Brigitta had been defeated. He nodded at Merlin and tucked the note into his pocket. “We will ensure their graves are marked and their heroic feats are written down in the books. I’ll notify Hilde, she will be appointed town leader now.”

Merlin nodded quietly, uncertainly.

“What’s wrong?”

Merlin turned away so his voice wouldn’t carry. “They killed an innocent man for coin.”

“It wasn’t about that. They thought he was—"

“The registry showed they got paid a big sum. And look what happened.” Merlin gave him a challenging look.

It wasn’t as if Arthur could do anything about it. These were the laws. Soldiers and knights got paid for what they did, which was to protect the land. The village had discovered magic was being used, and...

Merlin was right, which, annoyingly he was proving to be a lot lately. They had not prepared a trial to prove Urien had magic. If Urien hadn’t been killed, his daughter wouldn’t have become the Elsthyr and the children would not have been taken from their homes. A letter had just arrived the other day from one pair of parents whose daughter had not returned to them. He hadn’t even had the nerve to show the letter to Merlin yet. The two soldiers wouldn’t have died either, he bitterly concluded.

“I’m not about to change our laws,” he said. Merlin gave him a disapproving eyeful. “My hands are tied.” For a moment, he wondered when he had started explaining himself to Merlin.

“Of course, my lord,” Merlin conceded coolly and turned to leave.

 _Dammit_ , Arthur thought. The knights were demanding his attention, Gudrun called his name in complaint, when Merlin paused.

“Have you considered my request?” He was regarding Arthur from the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, and I will. There hasn’t been a moment—”

“Tomorrow, when your lunch is brought.”

“Since when do you decide, Merlin?”

“This isn’t for me. You need to do this.” Merlin walked away.

Arthur felt like a petulant child watching Merlin leave the throne room. He cursed inwardly that he was being manipulated to a fault and that he was unable to resist. _Tomorrow, then._

“Yes, I win!” Kay barked and Arthur turned back to the game.

  
***

Once the feast began, the banquet hall was full of the most honorable guests. King Uther sat at the head of the table, in the center, and beside him sat King Alined to his left and King Olaf to his right. The two empty thrones, destined to be seated by King Rodor and King Godwyn, remained empty out of respect for their journey’s delay.

King Uther had received word that King Godwyn was camped a day’s ride from the citadel. No scouts had returned to announce when King Rodor would arrive and it had quietly ground on Uther and Holden’s nerves behind closed doors. Here in the open space they were all courteous and smiles. Arthur’s only concern were the slighted knights in lower ranks who did not get a seat at the table. They had reluctantly been ushered out of the room when the feast began, indignant about their dismissal. Holden hadn’t blinked twice and had closed the door.

The room was beautifully decorated with large pots of flowers lining the walls, their best table cloths were laid out, covered by a rich display of candles, and bowls of fruits were arranged on the table to accentuate their wealth. The drinks flowed richly and filled the bellies of their guests before food was served.

To Arthur’s surprise, King Alined’s manservant, Trickler, was also a jester. He was in full costume, complete with a silly hat and he performed various tricks to entertain them. He danced and swirled, complimented and joked about people as well as himself. He created a burst of flame which singed Arthur’s brow, and he wasn’t even seated the nearest.

The man’s expressions were extreme and idiotic, but it seemed that Lady Vivian was exceedingly entertained that evening, which meant that King Olaf was probably entertained too. King Alined did not look like he cared much, but then he had probably seen all the jests before. All in all it was a success. Trickler even paid special attention to Lady Vivian presenting her with a host of small butterflies escaping his tunic, and to her personal delight, by plucking a living butterfly from behind her ear. Arthur marveled. He was curious where Trickler had even found the butterflies this late in the year.

He nearly snorted into his goblet when Merlin muttered something about, “See, we’re infested with moths,” behind his back. Arthur turned to look over his shoulder and Merlin looked perfectly collected apart from the twinkle in his eyes with which he was all-but innocently regarding the hall. Arthur chuckled and turned to Sir Caridoc to his left and told him the same joke. Caridoc laughed heartily.

When Merlin leaned over to refill his goblet he breathed, “Never knew you were that funny, sire.”

“He’s generally not,” Caridoc chimed in with a deep teasing voice.

“Watch it!” Arthur elbowed Caridoc and turned to Merlin, holding the goblet out. “Fill it up, Merlin. My golden rule is, I never let anything good go to waste. And I know what I like.”

He was watching as Merlin carefully filled the goblet further without spilling. He got positively drunk off observing his features, though he was only into his second cup. He noticed Merlin’s Adam’s apple bob down his throat as he chuckled and the way he blushed when he realized Arthur’s full meaning. He observed the light stubble on Merlin’s neck. The way his face pulled taut giving him that chin dimple and how he avoided his stare as he pulled himself upright again.

 _You know exactly what I mean,_ he thought with predatory satisfaction.

He felt a warmth growing within him which had nothing to do with the wine he was drinking. As he watched his father discuss casual matters with his royal guests, he felt a small amount of unease but nothing that would dissuade him. Something he had long given up on in his life was right there for the taking. Everything that had been shut away had awoken and did not want to back down. It wasn’t in him to back down. Perhaps he was being dense, he reflected. Irrational and selfish. He probably was.

Morgana was regarding him curiously from the other side of the room across the dining tables. He held up his goblet to cheer to her and she smiled at him. The servants brought them dinner and everything quieted down. The music was cheerful and Tybalt, at the lowest end of the table, was attracting the attention of some of the serving maids who stuck to the boy like flies.

Everything went entirely peaceful, that was, until halfway through the meal. The platters of food were halfway finished and everyone was merrily talking, several knights were boisterously complaining about each other’s noble houses and taking it out on each other. But that wasn’t the problem.

Morgana called out his name and when he looked over, he saw that her hand was across Lady Vivian’s shoulder, who was staring intently straight ahead at nothing in particular, and mouthing something as she did so. It looked like she was doing magic. Except, Arthur noted, her eyes looked normal.

The young knight, Arni, who was sat beside Vivian touched her shoulder. King Olaf stood up and shouted, “Get your hands off of her, Arni!” The young man looked startled and pulled his hand back, lifting them in apology. Olaf snarled, “Where is your devotion for the will laid upon us by the Gods?” Arthur got up instantly at that outburst but Merlin was ahead of him, rushing round the table to pick up Vivian’s hand before it nearly pushed over the goblet in a wild flail. King Olaf did not shout at Merlin.

The music stopped. Arthur watched as Merlin spoke to Vivian gently. King Olaf got up from his seat and blocked his line of view. Merlin spoke to Gwen, who rushed to the musicians. They picked up their instruments once more and started to play. Lady Vivian came to only seconds later. Merlin let go of her hand and stepped aside to give her father space.

“What’s happening, Uther?” King Alined asked.

“Probably nothing.”

“Is something the matter with Lady Vivian?” the man almost sounded pleased to Arthur.

“She is fine.”

Olaf was speaking in a low voice to Vivian and Arthur couldn’t make out what they were saying. Morgana looked concerned but was keeping her eyes focused on her drink.

“It seems that—" King Alined started once more.

King Olaf turned around. Arthur saw Merlin being practically butted aside by Olaf’s large form, falling back, and promptly crashed clumsily into a wooden rack holding up a row of ornate swords, which clanged loudly out of their wooden hooks and dropped to the floor one by one. Merlin too fell down, right on top.

Seconds later, Merlin was on his feet, but it seemed that one of the swords had gotten stuck in his jacket and he yelped, asking for someone to get it out. The hilt was visible just behind his neck, pierced through his jacket, and he flailed his arms to try and get to it without cutting himself.

“What on earth?” Uther asked impatiently.

Everyone along the tables started to talk and laugh at the spectacle. Sir Bedivere, Sir Owain, and one of the Nordic knights, Gudrun, were reaching for Merlin. The room was suddenly alive with roars and discussions. Their hands were on him to hold him still and they carefully dislodged the long sword from inside his coat. Arthur shook his head in disbelief at the spectacle. When the sword was finally free there was a cheer and a rumble going through the room.

Merlin, too, was laughing. Behind him Lady Vivian’s maid put the swords back into their rack hooks without looking up to the crowd. Only a minute had passed but King Olaf was back on his seat and Vivian was talking impatiently with Lady Morgana. It seemed that nothing was amiss. Arni tried to ask Vivian a question, but the sour-faced response she offered and the way she put her fork down revealed she was not in the mood. The young man gave her his shoulder instead and spoke to other, friendlier guests.

“What was all that then?” Sir Caridoc asked Arthur quietly. “Is he usually such a clown?”

“Well,” Arthur began, “he has his moments.”

Sir Caridoc changed his tone. “You should really consider someone more apt for the position. Last month Liam dropped my breastplate and now it’s got a crack in it. No amount of polishing will fix that! I haven’t the coin to replace it.”

“What are you saying?”

“Well, I fired Liam, but the new one, Rodney, is a real rascal. At least that kid is a nobleman’s nephew so he’s got more options than Liam.”

“Out of all the stupid things Merlin has done, my armor has never looked better.”

Sir Caridoc chuckled heartily. “That’s all well, but think of how he makes you look tonight.” Arthur felt the man’s large hand hit him on the shoulder after his ‘friendly’ advice.

“Thanks, Sir Caridoc. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  
***

When the feast drew to a close it was well into the late hours of the night. Sir Caridoc supported Arthur out of the banquet hall and together they made a very wobbly trip down the corridors. They complained loudly about the cold. It had been much warmer in the banquet hall, full of drunken bodies and free laughter. They climbed the steps to his tower and his legs felt like he was wearing at least three full sets of armor. He laughed with Sir Caridoc about it, upsetting several of the guards in the hall and in the royal towers.

“There comes your jester,” Caridoc hiccupped.

Arthur turned and saw Merlin speaking with Eda, Lady Vivian’s maid. They noticed the two men and ignored them. Eda leaned in to whisper something into Merlin’s ear. Her hand touched his arm as she did so.

“Wonder what that’s about then,” Sir Caridoc grinned. “I’m telling you, Arthur, just punish him and get…” The man was beyond drunk, but the wave of his hand indicated _someone else_.

Arthur was entirely sloshed. He stretched out an arm to lean against the wall and nearly fell when the wall was a bit further than he had calculated. “I want… Merlin.”

“Suit yourself,” was the reply though Arthur noticed the letters and syllables missing from the man’s slur.

“No no, see, I _want_ Merlin.” Sir Caridoc wasn’t seeing what was so obvious. It was so clear. “In fact—”

“Time for bed, Arthur.” Merlin was beside him suddenly. He had no idea when Merlin had stalked up to him but he smiled brilliantly at him.

“Yes!” Because that explained it all.

Sir Caridoc pulled himself together somewhat and clapped Merlin on the shoulder, nearly sending him flying. “Big clowning,” he mumbled and belched. “Don’t be an idiot!” It sounded exactly like the voice he gave Liam during practice when the boy was making mistakes.

“I won’t. Good night, Sir Caridoc,” Merlin bowed, while holding onto Arthur’s arm and opening the door to Arthur’s chamber simultaneously.

Arthur marveled at how Merlin could do all those things at once and pointed. “See?” he said, but Sir Caridoc was already lumbering down the corridor to his own chambers.

“Had a bit too much fun?” Merlin asked him without pressure in his voice.

“Yes, good wine,” Arthur frowned. Something was missing. Merlin placed one of Arthur’s hands on the folding screen and he was grateful to have something to keep himself steady. His eyes tried to scan the room but they went too quickly and too slowly at the same time. It was making him dizzy. “Not good, Merlin.” He couldn’t for the life of him recall when he had taken off his shoes and various robes and how he ended up in his fresh breeches and night shirt. Merlin was turning down the bed.

“Oh? Something not good?”

“You,” he answered unhelpfully. The words were there but his tongue was refusing to create words. He needed words to explain. It had never been more clear in his head. “No you.”

He walked towards Merlin, carefully, because the floor had decided to become a mountain towards the bed and he had to do his best to climb upwards. A moment later it was a slide and he was flailing to make sure he wouldn’t slide down all the way to the bedpost. Then it flipped once more and Merlin was the only thing holding him upright, with his long arms around his shoulders. He embraced Merlin for stability, to stop the room from moving.

“Alright, Arthur. Time to sleep.”

Arthur held on. He couldn’t make it out exactly but he knew that Merlin was there, close. His arms clung to him and he knew he was strong, and he was determined that Merlin wouldn’t be able to get out from his grip. Not this time. His fingers dug into Merlin’s ribs and he lay his head on his shoulder. He felt steadied and for a brief moment there was a clarity through his befuddlement that outweighed everything else that had happened that evening.

“You did that for her,” he said, and his words were only mildly slurred. All that clowning. Merlin’s resistance stopped and he settled against Arthur, sighing into his ear. It was the most precious thing he’d ever heard and he held on tighter.

He wasn’t certain if he would remember it in the morning, he knew with a certainty that Merlin acting out had been to distract all the guests from Lady Vivian. Whatever had been going on with Vivian, nobody spoke of it afterwards. Even Sir Caridoc’s criticism proved Merlin’s success.

“You are amazing.” The words were out before Arthur realized it. A small voice at the back of his mind told him he couldn’t do this, but he was struggling to remember why. This was _right_. Everything about this was perfect. A hand briefly stroked through Arthur’s hair. He responded by taking a deep sniff of Merlin’s neck, digging his nose into the red scarf. While his emotions were usually well guarded, they threatened to burst from the seams. He felt like he could break apart, either laugh or cry or do both at once.

“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice was strangled.

“Mmf?”

“It’s time to sleep now.” Merlin let go. Arthur didn’t. Merlin plucked Arthur’s hands from across his back and after several more seconds, he reluctantly obliged.

“No.” There was so much more to tell Merlin, now that he was free to say them. Again, his thoughts swirled through his mind, clear as day but the words wouldn’t come. It was frustrating. Merlin had turned down the bed for him and was gently guiding him to a sitting position.

“Yes, Arthur. Close your eyes. There’s a bucket if you need to be sick.”

“No,” he said again.

If anything happened afterwards, he did not know.

  
**\-----42 Merlin-----**

The next morning Merlin slept in. He was woken once by Gaius who ensured him that Arthur wouldn’t be awake for some hours, that there would be no summons for him, and that Gwen was bringing him food later. It was all arranged. Gaius left him to himself. Which was a good thing.

The morning was freezing and Merlin had discovered the last stash of extra blankets remaining in the kingdom and thrown them on top of his pile of thin covers. He disappeared entirely beneath them. Underneath the pile he was stroking himself for the second time that morning. And he had already done so the previous night.

He had even attempted to begin in _Arthur’s room._ He had wanted to leave the room as soon as the prince dozed off, but he had found himself locking the door behind him and taking himself in hand inside his breeches. Although the fire in the room had been reduced to just a low ember and there was a definite chill in the air, Merlin felt entirely overheated. He had thrown his head back against the wood of the door and reached down. The prince had reeked of wine and his tongue was slurred, but his body had been solid and his uncompromising _want_ had leaked through again.

 _This time_ , Merlin thought. This time he might have even given in, if Arthur hadn’t been completely hammered. He had looked so damned regal in his clothes that evening and they had shared jokes. Arthur even called him _amazing_. And held him. He had held him so close he had felt Arthur’s heart beating against his own chest. He’d stuck his nose into Merlin’s neck as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And Merlin wanted him so much.

In his bed, under his three blankets, he was thinking back to that moment when they had stood together. He thought about Arthur’s hair tickling his nose and how tempted he had been to take advantage and _feel_ his body. But he couldn’t, not when he had specifically asked Arthur to take a step down. Which he _had._ And he knew that Arthur never would have crossed any lines with Merlin, so he had better behave as well.

He hadn’t finished inside of Arthur’s room though. Instead he had tucked himself back in, and walked awkwardly through the corridors. Most people still awake at that hour were drunk out of their skull and did not notice, or thought that he was drunk too. Gaius was thankfully asleep in the workshop. So, Merlin had climbed into his narrow bed, shut out the world and pretended that Arthur had made his move, ravished him like he wanted and that Merlin had _not_ stopped him.

Now, in the early morning and with Gaius rummaging around in the workshop, he was reliving his expedition to The Crossroads, as he had for the past few days. The stables, the small room in the inn, and even the shed with the parked cart. They would have all been so wonderful if he hadn’t stopped Arthur each time. If he had given into him. He imagined Arthur naked, not just to take a bath but naked for _him._ Hard, sweaty, and wanting him. The third time he came was just as powerful as before. He needed this if he was going to function at all that day.

He lay for a while longer and used a spell to clean up the come. It disappeared in a swish and he sank his head back onto the pillow. He was glad that this spell existed and he thought with a dirty mind that it was probably one of the first spells ever invented once magic became part of the world. It was very probably the one spell he had performed most often over the years, apart from lighting fires.

Once he was dressed and halfway decent when he entered the workshop with a massive case of bedhead. He patted his coat to check that the scroll was there. It was. Gaius was bent over a pile of large books and was halfway through the latest. He looked up at Merlin and shook his head.

“There is some breakfast for you, but I’m not certain you are up for it.”

“I didn’t get drunk, Gaius.”

“Of course you didn’t,” his master smiled sarcastically.

Merlin huffed and sat down, eating his breakfast porridge in big spoon fulls just to prove him wrong. After he was halfway done he pointed at the large book with the spoon and asked, “What’s that?”

“I’m going over a book of mind spells, except I haven’t found anything which describes Lady Vivian’s condition.”

“I know, she has a serious case of self-entitlement.”

“Merlin!” Gaius said aghast.

Right. It was too early to make jokes. “Sorry.”

“There is nothing in any of these books so far. I just don’t understand it.”

“What if it isn’t magic?”

“You saw her, yesterday, Merlin. It looked like it was.”

Merlin shook his head. “She wasn’t producing words, though. They weren’t even syllables.”

“How do you know? You were on the other side of the room.”

Merlin shrugged. He hadn’t heard exactly what was coming out of her mouth but they weren’t syllables. He knew that much. “I know. And she wasn’t conscious when she did it.”

“Her eyes were wide open,” Gaius protested.

“I think we need to look at different books, that’s all I’m saying.” He finished his meal to the last flake and put the plate away.

“I started reading about non-magical sources yesterday. I couldn’t find anything either.”

“Do you have any more?”

“No,” Gaius sighed and leaned back into his old wooden chair. It creaked in protest. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless we ask Geoffrey for access to sections in the library to which we normally are not allowed.”

Merlin’s eyes lit up. He succumbed to Gaius’ rising eyebrow and pretended his interest wasn’t piqued at all. “Well, we just have to ask him then?”

Gaius sighed and shook his head. “It won’t be allowed. You shall need to investigate more today. Perhaps if I have more information, something in our books will stand out.”

“Yes, Gaius. But shouldn’t we at least ask?”

“Leave that to me. I want you to see how she is doing today. She must have felt something dreadful last night. Everyone could see her.”

Merlin shrugged. “I will check what the word is around the kitchens.”

He set off then, with a last warning from Gaius to check his hair. He patted it down as best he could and started his morning route. He cleared the kitchens first to see the schedule and asked Audrey and Josselyn about the latest news.

Apparently two servants of King Alined’s household had gotten into a fight over a serving lady who they both fancied sneaking into their room. They had been sharing a rather large bed, but since one of them actually found the other in bed with the lady in question, they now couldn’t stand each other and were working on opposite sides of the castle.

“Does Holden know?”

Josselyn smiled, “He is running around like a headless chicken trying to find anyone willing to spare a last bed. We are betting one of the knights will offer up their squire’s beds next.”

Merlin’s eyes widened but he did not ask further. “What else, what about Lady Vivian?”

“Oh, Lady Frost is fine, she is sitting in Lady Morgana’s chambers. What? Everyone is calling her that.”

“How come?” Merlin tried.

“Because it started to snow this morning? Oh come off it, she’s been a right pest. You’ve seen how she treats people.”

“Oh yes, well, she’s not the first lady to be somewhat cold, right?” He was eyeing some small cakes curiously. They were cooling, lying on several baking trays and they smelled delicious. What was that blueberry? Raspberry?

“You surprise me, Merlin.”

“No, I see it. I’m just not that bothered.” His mouth watered.

Josselyn looked at him with worry. “Is it because of King Galorian? I’ve only heard that one of the servants of King Olaf’s staff was pretty concerned. He was talking to Birger, you know his manservant? You should know, Birger is carrying a knife on him at all times.”

Merlin frowned, “It’s unlikely that such an event happens at all. But whatever suits Birger. He won’t get any action from our lads, I’m sure.”

“If they do, it would certainly mean war.”

“Not if a manservant is hurt, surely,” Merlin grinned. “So it’s good that Birger stands between King Olaf and whoever.

“Right, yes.” But her eyes said she really didn’t understand him.

“I’m bringing Lady Morgana her tea. You said Lady Vivian was with her. Shall I bring them both some cakes?” He tried.

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea! But what about Gwen, isn’t she—?”

“We swapped.”

Before he left the kitchens he had a stack of twelve small cakes as well as a large pot of tea and two beautiful cups spaced out on a large wooden tray. It was quite heavy. He climbed the staircases towards Lady Morgana’s chambers. He arrived at their door with all of nine cakes still stacked on the pile and an array of crumbs in his neck scarf.

He knocked and entered, surprised to find that Tybalt was running around Morgana’s room, dragging one of her long shawls through the air while making loud noises.

“...the saddest excuse for a prince I’ve ever met,” Lady Vivian stated.

“Surely he can’t be _that_ disappointing. And trust me, I have few good words to spare for him myself.” Lady Morgana spotted him at the entrance of the room and he quietly moved to the table to set the food down.

“I’ve traveled all over, my father takes me wherever he goes. They are usually a sorry bunch, but _this—_ ”

“Merlin, where’s Gwen?”

“She had another task to fulfill. I’ve brought you tea and some delicious cake—ow!”

Tybalt had just run into him and almost tackled him away from the table.

“Why are you still standing here?” Tybalt asked Merlin with authority. Merlin paled and the women laughed. “Can’t you at least try to be better?”

“Er, Tybalt?” The boy seemed to be copying King Alined’s cheerful attitude.

“Yes?”

Morgana stood up and approached them. She put a hand on Tybalt’s shoulder and squeezed, leaning down and said softly to him, “You should be nice to him. He’s our friend.”

Tybalt’s eyes grew wide and he nodded to her. “Yes, my lady.”

“Why is he here, Morgana?” Vivian eyed Tybalt suspiciously.

“Because,” she smiled at the boy, and straightened. “His father is working and he is good company.”

“He is obnoxious and loud,” Lady Vivian stated. “I should think Alined runs his household with a stricter hand than Uther does.”

Morgana’s eyes flashed with some impatience. “Perhaps the boy is capable enough to reflect upon his own attitude.” Merlin admired Morgana for her wit and hid a cheeky smile. Morgana offered the boy one of the small cakes and told him to play quietly. Merlin didn’t understand how she was so at ease.

Lady Vivian sat in what was normally Morgana’s chair and gave Merlin a cold look. He answered it with a bow and by offering her tea.

“ _My_ mother would iron out your smile in an instant, boy,” Lady Vivian snapped at the child when he began to run again.

Morgana turned around and pulled some of her dark locks back over her shoulder. “Well, you might not have been included in the facts, but his mother just passed away. One afternoon spent without worries is just fine, and he is welcome here.” Lady Vivian was momentarily taken aback by that.

“Morgana?” Merlin asked softly. He leaned down to pick up her shawl that had been discarded onto the floor. By the time he handed it to her, there was something made out of paper hidden between the folds.

Morgana’s eyes widened and for a moment he could see the stress in her features. She had understood what he brought her. Then she recovered and handed it back to Merlin.

“What do you want me to do with it? Fold it up and put it away.”

“Where _we_ are from, servants don’t need to be reminded of their duties,” Vivian pointed out. She held her tea cup on her lap and once more her tongue was sharp.

Merlin bit his lip and moved out of their sight. He folded the cloth and the small parchment together and placed it underneath Morgana’s collection in her large black wardrobe.

“Quite frankly I don’t see how you can call a servant a friend. Arthur should definitely not treat him as one, it makes them soft.”

Merlin closed the cupboard with a thud and a loud swish of the key. His patience was running thin with this woman. He was supposed to help her but it seemed that every minute spent in her vicinity was an affront to his very soul.

“Will you be needing anything else, my lady?” Merlin bowed to Morgana.

“Stay for a while, Merlin.” Lady Morgana had calmly taken her seat opposite Vivian, seemingly without a worry in the world. “Here in Camelot trust and honor are more important than servitude alone. Anyone can serve, even an enemy. Until the day they are no longer your servant.”

“If you subjugate them, they remain your servants.”

“Yes, but it only takes one to break free with intent to kill their lord if they hate them enough.”

“Then you must punish them, Morgana.”

“Lucky for us our servants are not our subjugated enemies. We trust them. That is why my maidservant is staying in my room now that we need an extra bed for King Alined’s servants.”

“I would _never_ in my _life_ …” Lady Vivian looked like she was about to be sick.

“Yes, the guest in question is staying in Gwen’s home. That’s what we mean with trust.”

“Her home can’t hold much worth judging by her clothes. I wouldn’t be worried.”

Merlin still stood in the corner of the room, fuming.

“Yes, her estate is common. However she is the best seamstress in all of Camelot and she serves me well.”

She noticed Lady Vivian stare at Morgana’s dress. She made a sour face which meant she was digging once more for a way to insult Lady Morgana and, by extension, all of Camelot. “If you feed a dog at the table they will never want to leave.”

“On the contrary, Guinevere keeps her own house, she suffers no debts. She is in essence a free woman.” Morgana gave a small smirk.

Merlin felt better.

Tybalt walked up to Morgana, handing her one of her hair brushes and said, “My father says there is no such thing.”

Both Lady Vivian and Lady Morgana stared at him.

  
**\-----43 Arthur-----**

Arthur awoke feeling like he did not belong in his body. In fact, his body was having a pretty hard time coming to terms with itself. He recalled the feast, King Alined, and King Olaf. He recalled entertaining them together with his father. Not much more than that.

At first.

He took his time getting up from the bed, moving his head gingerly because it felt as if he’d woken from a week of relentless jousting. Opening one of the windows helped a bit, but the air that came in was icy and he closed it soon enough. The sun was up in the sky and he must have been left alone for most of the morning because there was a bustle in the courtyard already and everyone was hard at work. He hadn’t been served breakfast yet either, but realistically, he couldn’t have stomached it.

When he turned back he noticed the bucket that had been placed next to his bed. _How thoughtful_ , he mused. Then he remembered the rest. His drunken stumble towards the bed. And Merlin.

 _Merlin_.

“Damn.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to remember the specifics. It was vague, a jumbled blur of images and scents. _Something_ had happened and he hadn’t even been clear enough to remember it properly.

“Damn,” he said again and walked to his wardrobe. He spent the next few minutes taking care of himself groggily, unsure of what the day looked like for him. Everything depended on when the next kings would arrive. If they could be there early, they would start the council meetings. If it was late, he would entertain the knights with exercise and training or take Olaf and Alined on a hunting trip. If they arrived in between, it would be a messy day. He was just shrugging on his red doublet over the shirt he slept in, because he couldn’t be bothered to change it, when there was a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

His heart jumped briefly until he saw that it was Gwen carrying a tray with a large covered bowl of soup, fresh breads, and some pears. She placed it on his dining table and proceeded to add several pieces of wood onto the fire to warm up the room. Arthur expected the warmth to instantly start spreading around him and he was surprised when he didn’t. And he knew why.

“Good day, sire. Have you slept well?” she began.

“Yes, I, uh…”

Where was Merlin? He seemed to remember something vaguely.

“Do you need some help?” Within seconds she stood in front of him and helped him button up the doublet he’d been fumbling with. He stared at her in surprise.

“I’m fine, though. I haven’t slept in this late since…”

“Not that long ago, surely, sire,” she smiled.

“Where are my father and our guests?”

She took one of the belts from his folding screen and put it around his doublet. “There won’t be any more arrivals until later today. King Uther and King Alined went out hunting. King Olaf stayed behind.”

“What about the council?”

“There have been no mention of council meetings yet.”

He watched her do the sash on the belt and he had to hold in his breath. She was quite rough with her hands, and he figured that was why Morgana always looked pressed into her dresses. He wasn’t quite ready to end up the same though.

“Thank you.”

“Will that be all?”

“Has anything else happened?”

Gwen blanched, “What do you mean?”

“While I was asleep.”

“Nothing noteworthy, sire. The Lady Vivian passed by your chambers earlier but the servants said that you had not awoken yet. So she was brought to Lady Morgana’s chambers.”

Then why was Gwen here, he thought.

Then he remembered. “I need to…”

“Oh right, sire.” She misunderstood and made to leave, an uncertain look on her face.

“Wait, Gwen.” She was out the door. “Guine _vere_.”

Her hand was still around the door he saw, gripping it tightly. She turned back to him with her head held high but with a shifty expression on her face.

“What I wanted to say was, I need to speak with you. In private. Close the door.”

She did and stood before him, her hands clasped in front of her.

“Gwen, I don’t rightly know where to begin. There’s something I need to tell you.” He willed his parched brain to work. “I’ve been… well I’ve been an idiot, really.” Her brow knitted together and he saw that she was trying to come up with a way to respond, to put him at ease. He held up a hand momentarily. He knew her, trusted her, to let him speak. “What I mean to say. I may have, I mean, I have _probably_ given off the wrong impression. A few months ago when you were kidnapped, when you were saved by… by Lancelot.”

“I was saved by you, sire,” she said hastily.

“We both know that isn’t true.”

“I believe it is, sire.”

He should have thought about what Merlin had asked him to do. He should have prepared something. If he’d been talking to Merlin it would have been so much easier. He could have called him an idiot for believing the wrong thing. He couldn’t very well say something like that to Gwen. “Well, matters aren’t as they seem. And it took me far too long to understand what they meant.”

Gwen looked up at him with curiosity and hope. A blush spread across her face.

“I need to make amends for my wrongdoings.”

This surprised her. “I’m sure nothing has been done that would cause offense, sire. I don’t really understand—"

“Neither did I. But it was Merlin who told me. When I rescued you, it was because of Morgana’s request and because my father, well he can be wrong sometimes. And because I believed we could get you back. But Lancelot, well, he understood it as something different, something more.”

There was a sudden flinch in her features.

 _Oh God,_ he panicked, _Merlin was right._ “That is to say, my father is wrong on more than one occasion. Since Lancelot took great pains to rescue you, and I have never been able to reward him properly for his deed, I have decided that I should write him a letter to ask if he would return to Camelot and if he would ride patrol for us.”

She stood miserably in front of him, trying to hide that she was torn. She made the same expressions as he’d seen in Merlin when he was conflicted. “Why… why are you telling me this, sire?”

“Because, Gwen, you mean a great deal to me, and I wanted to tell you before I send out the letter.”

“For what? Lancelot left by himself.”

“Because he thought that my intentions were more. Listen, we have just lost some good patrols out near the city and I could use a man with his skills and bravery. I cannot make him a knight, but I can offer him a place.”

Each sentence he spoke, Gwen became less satisfied with him. She shook her head and balled her fists. “I don’t see why you come to me with this now. It’s been _months_ since that day and I have been left wondering what it all meant.”

“Gwen, I’m sorry.”

“No, I get it. You need to clear your conscience. You are entitled to choose to write him a letter, of course. You do not need my permission for that.”

“But I thought that you—”

“What happens with me is currently something for me to consider. Me alone.” She picked up the sides of her skirt, a clear indication to Arthur that she wanted to leave.

“Gwen, you must know that I didn’t understand—"

“I believe you, I do. I just need time to think.”

“Then I will wait for your approval before sending the letter.”

“No, don’t. Whatever you offer is just that. Honestly, sire, this has nothing to do with me. If it did, it would be an unwelcome addition to the letter.”

He regarded her for a long moment as the silence stretched out between them. Eventually he nodded. Gwen left and closed the door quietly behind her. He had royally messed up, again. He didn’t understand women at all and now he might just have made things worse than they had been. He thought that she would have been happy with his announcement.

Lancelot should be a knight. Arthur knew it in his bones. Rationally he understood that the lords of the land needed to be appeased. While their sons enjoyed wealthy incomes for their protection of Camelot, their honor was frequently questionable and not every man would lay their life down for their kingdom with equal ease. The only reason the men behaved was because they feared his father. That was no real trust.

He left the soup to cool down. Instead he sat down at his desk with an aching head to write the invitation.

  
**\-----44 Merlin-----**

Tybalt looked positively terrified. Between the two women who had lectured him for the past few hours he looked uncertain of which one was more frightening. It had been a great amusement for Merlin to see Lady Vivian and Lady Morgana team up at last and explain the place of a woman in a royal household.

They spoke of their support of their husbands, and how they took over when their husbands were away in battle, away for politics, sick, or even deceased. And together it boiled down to most of the time. They taught him about the respect required in the presence of women, high and low born, and how to mistakenly cross the line could lead to defamation, expulsion, and permanent unhappiness by a woman’s powerful influence. Of course they told him so in simple words and they took turns in highlighting the consequences to him by retelling true historical tales which he would have no doubt heard recounted in the castle halls in Deorham. Tybalt sat quietly and took it all in, he didn’t even dare to reply anymore.

Merlin sat on a small stool near the door in the other part of the room bearing silent witness and occasionally snickering to himself. His mother had not been quite so vocal in her teachings, so he amused himself by listening in until he was dismissed. He looked up when Gwen snuck into the room looking dismayed.

“Gwen!” Merlin hissed. She walked over to him. Morgana and Vivian had not noticed her entrance yet. “Gwen, what’s the matter?”

She shook her head bewildered. “I’ve come to relieve you from duty.”

“Right, I know. But why are you upset?” He stood up and leaned in so they could speak quietly.

“It’s just,” she sighed, “never mind. I just got everything completely wrong. And Arthur is _such_ a…”

“Prat?” Merlin offered.

She smiled despite herself. “That word is not entirely wrong.”

“What did he do, Gwen?”

“We talked.”

“Well I can see how that can go wrong. I mean, it’s Arthur after all.”

She chuckled again, looking more relieved this time. “I just think there must be something that brought this on. And I can’t imagine, I don’t want to…”

“I don’t know if I’m following you.”

“Gwen?” Morgana came over to check on her maidservant. “Is everything alright?” Gwen smiled this time, she was able to hide her distress nearly perfectly. Nearly. Morgana clearly wasn’t fooled.

“I’m fine. I just had a moment, but all is well.”

Morgana smiled uncertainly. Gwen didn’t always include her in her personal troubles, but then, Merlin knew, Morgana had her own secrets to keep as well.

“My lady?” Tybalt called out urgently.

“What is it?” Morgana turned and gasped.

Lady Vivian was once again staring into nothing. This time her head was angled up and she was looking at the ceiling as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. She was combing her fingers through her sidelocks and for all that they could see, was entirely unaware of any other presence in the room.

“Lady Vivian?” Merlin called out. He pushed past Morgana and Gwen and kneeled beside her chair. “Lady Vivian?” he asked again. She still did not respond.

“What’s happening, Merlin?” Morgana came to stand beside him. Gwen joined her.

“Gaius is looking into it. I’m helping him. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Morgana remained unconvinced. “Is it some form of magic?”

“I don’t know. She will be fine. Look, you’ll see.” It lasted for another minute. “Please keep this private,” Merlin said quietly to the both of them. They nodded.

Tybalt was hiding behind one of the large chairs and peeking out from time to time. “Why do you say Lady Vivian and not Princess Vivian?” he asked.

“Not now,” Morgana quieted him. At last Lady Vivian started blinking again. She took a moment to register Merlin and then looked into the other faces staring at her in concern.

“Go…” she whispered, “away.” She sounded exhausted.

“Was that magic?” Tybalt asked.

“Gwen, get King Olaf.” Merlin scratched the back of his head. “I’m going to fetch Gaius.” Gwen left, running.

“I will stay with her then,” Morgana said.

Merlin nodded. “She will need someone friendly beside her.”

Morgana raised an eyebrow and gave him an awkward smile.

“No! Go away!” Lady Vivian said more firmly this time. Her nails dug into the upholstery of the chair and she was pushing herself upright. She wasn’t steady enough to stand up, and struggled. When she couldn’t get her feet to work properly, she sagged back into her chair with an unhappy groan.

“This is my room, Lady Vivian. I am staying here with you,” Morgana shot back.

Merlin nodded at her with gratitude, left and ran as fast as he could.

  
***

When he arrived in the workshop, he was panting heavily. He saw with a shock that Arthur was there too. He paused, only for a moment. The previous evening came back to him vividly again. He pushed through the door, steeling himself against any memories or incoming remarks.

Arthur looked at him with worry, a brand new ink well in his hand from Gaius’ supply. “Merlin, what happened?”

Merlin ignored Arthur as best he could and turned to his master. “Gaius, it’s Lady Vivian. She, um...” _Oh hell_ , he wasn’t supposed to share her condition with anyone.

Before the old physician could say anything Arthur filled in, “Did she have another one of her _special moments_?”

“Prince Arthur, I might need to discuss this with Merlin in private.”

Arthur shrugged. “It already happened yesterday, Gaius, in the _middle_ of the feast. No amount of clowning can wipe that from my memory.”

Merlin glowered. _So much for ‘amazing’._

Gaius eyed Arthur dubiously, then turned to Merlin. “Have you found out anything more about its source?”

“No, but I can’t see anything that might relate to, uh, magic.” The oddity of his declaration to the two people standing on either side of him struck him with particular clarity.

“The fact that you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“I know. Did we get permission from Geoffrey, Gaius?”

“No, I’m afraid it’s been denied.”

“Permission for what?” Arthur demanded.

Gaius lifted his eyebrow at Arthur, who visibly shrunk back from it. “I might have found something that could help, for now. She must drink this potion to keep her calm.” He handed Merlin a small potion vial.

“Yes, Gaius.” Merlin was satisfied to see that Gaius hadn’t given in to Arthur’s meddling.

“Where is she?” Gaius asked.

“In Lady Morgana’s chambers, where I left her.”

“Why were you—”

“I want to see her myself,” Gaius announced.

“Of course. We’ve alerted the king,” Merlin said, still trying to ignore Arthur who tried to look over his shoulder at the vial. Could he for once not be a clotpole and let him do his job?

“My father?” Arthur asked.

“Her father, King Olaf,” Merlin replied at last. He could tell from Arthur’s huff that he was annoyed with him. It was the least of his problems right now. He knew that if he as much as looked at Arthur he would be lost in thoughts about the previous night. He couldn’t afford it. Not now.

Instead, Merlin turned to his master. “Er, Gaius?”

“What is it?”

“Why do they call her Lady Vivian, not Princess Vivian?”

Gaius looked at him oddly. “You know, Merlin, I don’t rightly know.”

“She might not be an heiress, perhaps. She has several brothers,” Arthur offered. “Why?”

“No particular reason, I think.” Merlin scratched the back of his head absently.

“Lady Vivian is their eldest though, does that have anything to do with it?” Arthur pondered aloud.

Merlin stared at Arthur. And cursed himself instantly for his lack of self control. The attraction he was attempting to deny himself was stronger than ever. That morning’s activities came back to him vividly, including all his fantasies, and it did things to his gut, hot things. He blinked when he checked the odd way the collar of Arthur’s doublet was folded and… “Is that your night shirt?”

“It might be, but—” Arthur sounded impatient.

“You’re hosting kings and ladies and you’re not properly dressed?!”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Surely you can ask someone…or dress _yourself_ _—_ ” Merlin nearly forgot himself.

Gaius rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You’re avoiding my questions, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur leaned closer. “What’s Lady Vivian’s station got to do with anything?”

“I don’t think it’s connected.” He lowered his gaze because Arthur’s blue-eyed stare was too intense. “I was just curious.” Merlin wondered if Arthur had any idea what it did to him. How much he wanted to simultaneously kiss him and make him come undone as well as slap some sense into him.

“We need to see to Lady Vivian’s interests now, Merlin. We cannot let King Olaf down,” Gaius ushered him.

Merlin nodded and turned to leave with Gaius. Arthur followed.

“And Merlin,” Gaius sounded weary, “I need you to be extra careful this time.”

“Yes, Gaius.” Merlin was stuck by a sudden giddy nausea, which he blamed on the promise of King Olaf’s menacing presence. They descended the staircase and hurried across the entrance hall where Merlin promptly bumped into one of Camelot’s messengers. Descending from the staircase across from them came Holden.

“What is the news?” Holden demanded.

Merlin pushed past the messenger to continue on, but Holden grabbed his arm to stay. His fingers were like a vice grip. If Arthur noticed, he said nothing.

“King Godwyn will arrive shortly, within the hour, sir. He has brought a party of twenty-two. I believe he has two manservants.”

“Merlin, make sure Arthur is ready. _On time_.” Holden squeezed his upper arm to force his point.

“Yes, of course, but—”

“It’s alright, Merlin. We will discuss it later.” Gaius nodded to him.

Merlin handed him the potion vial and turned to follow the prince to his quarters. There was something gnawing at the back of his mind. Something was certainly off. There was a soft rumble of the dragon stirring underneath the citadel, but it was too faint to be a definite warning to him.

He attributed his irritability to Lady Vivian’s condition at first. Her father was intensely protective and he had been warned several times not to make mistakes. Now Gaius was sent to deal with King Olaf by himself and Merlin hadn’t even begun to tell his master about her attitude.

He was also deeply concerned about Lady Morgana who now had a scroll about interpreting visions in her wardrobe, hidden merely under a pile of thin shawls. Meanwhile, King Olaf would be called to the room and perhaps, if Vivian’s condition was bad enough, King Uther too. If they discovered what she’d hidden, the consequences would be dire. Even if Gaius was the only one to discover it, he would know that Merlin was the one who had helped her obtain it.

And he thought about Gwen who was so upset. Arthur had really done a number on her. He could be uncommonly dense about people sometimes. Especially women. He supposed that’s why he and Morgana had never gotten along, despite growing up together. Gwen had not done anything wrong. In fact, he had made the same conclusions as her until recently. Despite the very real fact that Arthur would not be allowed to follow his heart if it meant marrying a commoner, a _servant_ , Merlin had presumed that Guinevere would have been his obvious choice. There were very few whom Arthur trusted thoroughly, but she was among them. Gwen had even joined them in Ealdor and fought shoulder to shoulder with him.

Merlin was several steps behind Arthur, all the way to his chambers. He hadn’t looked at the servants, hadn’t noticed their faces, or what they were doing. His only visible concern now was to appease Holden and ensure that Arthur was ready for that evening’s reception of King Godwyn and his massive entourage. Arthur burst into his chambers and walked over to his desk to put the ink jar down. Merlin followed and closed the door, relaxing his features momentarily. His worries showed on his face.

“Really, Merlin. You look like you’ve just gotten punished.”

“Haven’t I?” he shot back.

Arthur sat down at his desk and flattened a piece of parchment in front of him. “Undoubtedly.”

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to start getting ready.”

“I’m writing the letter,” Arthur said, picking up his feather pen. “The one you asked me to write.”

“You mean you still haven’t done that?”

“I was out of ink,” Arthur said without looking up. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”

“What _did_ you talk to Gwen about? She was very upset.”

Arthur looked up to him only for a moment. His brow furrowed and he continued writing for some time before answering, “I inquired after the misunderstanding and set the record straight.”

Merlin grit his teeth. “And still you misbehaved,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“I think you need a shave.” His look was that of pure innocence.

Arthur rested his feather pen on the cap of the ink well and stroked his chin. “I don’t think I do.”

Merlin pushed himself away from the door and threw his hands in the air. “With all the commotion there won’t be any messengers riding out with any letters until the morning. Besides, you will need to write several copies unless you know where he even lives.”

Arthur slammed his hand on the table and stood up. “You seem to be forgetting I am the Prince of Camelot. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I always have. I’m not going to change now.”

“Merlin!” Arthur stalked towards him, looking livid.

“You need to get dressed, _sire_.”

Arthur reached with two hands and grabbed fist fulls Merlin’s clothes, pushing him back against the wardrobe. “You need to stop being so infuriating!”

There were mere inches left between them. Merlin felt the wood decorations of the wardrobe press against his back and Arthur’s fists against his shoulders. He looked him in the eyes, uncompromising and direct. It was almost too hard to look at Arthur, see the rage in his expression, the white around his stark blue eyes, his mouth pursed in anger, and the muscles in his jaw working. “The letters can wait a day, why is this such a big problem?”

Arthur’s hands dropped, he stood straight, and there was a slump in his shoulders. He lowered his chin and turned away, standing ready to get dressed. When he spoke again, there was a constricted tone in his voice. “Alright, Merlin. Have it your way.”

Merlin collected himself and pulled his shirt and jacket back how they should be. He was confused at what Arthur meant. “What—?”

“I need to be ready. On time.” His tone was business like, disconnected.

Whatever Merlin had just said, had broken something. Perhaps it was the final resistance Arthur had had to return to normal. Perhaps Merlin was just too much of a pest and had driven out what remained of his interest. Merlin nodded and dressed him properly this time, with a good undershirt, his royal outfit from the other day. He took time to clip Arthur’s fingernails and to polish the coronet. They did not speak.

When he crowned Arthur, there was no moment for recognition. Arthur moved out of his reach immediately and left. There was still time before King Godwyn would arrive. Wherever Arthur was headed, it wasn’t his business. Merlin was just the servant.

Merlin pressed his lips together and pushed back his tears. The walls closed in around him.

The servant. That was all he was.

  
***


	4. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Treaty of the Five Kings has begun. Very soon, it appears that Arthur and Vivian are deeply in love. Merlin becomes despondent trying to figure out how to release both Arthur and Vivian from their doom.

  
**\-----45 Arthur-----**

Arthur pulled himself together during Godwyn’s arrival and the introduction of his household. There were way too many people and the hallways were crowded with a variety of simultaneous arrangements. He could relatively easily recognize King Alined’s household because their staff wore very specific servant’s outfits, but between the other kings it was a huge jumble.

King Godwyn had brought two manservants, Weston and Kolby, who attended him everywhere. If one of the men was sent on an errand, the other stayed by his side at all times. Godwyn had also brought with him a grand collection of very fine wines, silver ore for the royal smithery, as well as a collection of beautiful stones and finely forged jewelry, which included one filigree necklace for Lady Morgana, its design based on the stories of her beauty which had traveled across the lands.

“It’s good to meet you here, from across these lands,” King Olaf said, raising his glass to Godwyn. “I hope your reputation of being a devout and pious man proves to be the case. I myself take great pride in embracing my role as a vassal.”

“Naturally,” Godwyn responded pleasantly. “This is very important.”

“Then you will not mind that we keep to our Winter Nights,” he said with a smile that made his beard bristle.

“That is out of the question,” Uther said calmly, putting his glass down. “That is celebrated by the barbarous Celts, and during a time when they particularly use magic. It is therefore forbidden in Camelot.”

“There is nothing wrong with appeasing the Gods, Uther.” Olaf shot him a dark look. “We bless our ancestral spirits.”

“You can do so, but no rituals. It is not befitting to our full congregation.”

King Olaf stood up, he looked gravely insulted. Meanwhile Trickler passed behind Arthur and offered him some of Godwyn’s wine. He nodded, but made sure that he was paying attention.

“You would forget the great deeds of the ones who created this land?” Olaf growled.

“I created this land,” Uther shot back. His stare was uncompromising.

Arthur stood up as well and raised his new goblet of wine. “Godwyn, your wine is very fine, my lord.” He knew Olaf’s glare was upon him. “Rituals aside, I agree. Let us not forget the names of the noble knights whose lives we owe our great kingdom, and whose tales will be told and retold throughout the ages. I invite our good knights of Camelot to share with our guests tonight, the tales of bravery in honor of their servitude.”

The knights cheered and raised their goblets to Arthur. They started speaking loudly and drowned out whatever Olaf or Godwyn were going to say afterwards. Uther didn’t look happy at all. Godwyn had a cheeky twinkle in his eye and Alined looked entirely disinterested.

After all the flattery was done and the four kings were ready for that evening’s feast and served food, a messenger strode in, bowed deeply and announced that King Rodor was just arriving. There was suddenly a messy bustle of chairs, knights, kings, and servants all hurrying out the door for the proper reception. It really was the worst possible timing. Holden did his best to organize that the knights and servants stood aside to let the kings pass through to the central hall.

Gwen was pushing through the bustle with a warm cloak to put over Morgana’s shoulders. The blue, richly decorated dress she was wearing would not be enough on the cold steps in the courtyard. Arthur smiled at Morgana and offered his arm. “That necklace is a splendid piece,” he complimented. “It suits you.”

She took his arm and stood beside him, waiting for all the craze to pass and for people to calm down. “Thank you. I thought you looked positively jealous that I received a gift and you did not.” King Olaf and Lady Vivian were just exiting the banquet hall, Uther was already gone.

“Jealous? Hardly. What would I do with fine jewelry?”

Several servants came in from the kitchens to cover the warm dishes on the table so they would keep. They also set out a plate for King Rodor. George was tasked with lighting a fire in his chambers.

“Offer it to Lady Vivian, perhaps?”

Arthur leaned over to her. “I would sooner offer it to my horse.”

She smirked. “Oh perhaps you would. It is certainly a safer bet.”

He looked around for Merlin and didn’t find him. He hadn’t seen him yet during the feast and had been served by Trickler instead.

“What’s wrong?” Morgana asked, pulling the warm cloak tighter around her shoulders.

“Oh, I’m just seeing if all the servants from all the households are behaving. I wouldn’t want anything odd to happen.”

Trickler bowed before Arthur. “May I escort Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana to the courtyard?”

Arthur smiled and nodded. They followed him out through the hallways and pushed through the shoulders of servants to descend the steps. As they walked down, arm in arm people glanced in their direction. They were both dressed impressively and even his father looked satisfied at their arrival.

King Rodor rode up to them and descended from his horse, looking worn and strung out. His three servants had battle wounds, which were dressed in haste. King Rodor’s clothes had tears, but he had remained unscathed.

“My friend,” Uther began, “what has befallen you?”

“The Saxons. It was an ambush. We had wondered why our messenger never returned to us. We think he was intercepted.” King Rodor spent no time at all with formalities, he shook King Uther’s arm in a greeting and turned to Holden, while the rest of his small entourage dismounted and unpacked gifts for the king to receive.

“Holden, how are you?” Rodor asked informally, but did not wait for a reply. “I have no manservant, I do not require one. We are here with few. I will ask you to help us carry our bags and feed us. One of my men, Widigast, will need someone to see to his eye. That will be all for tonight.” King Uther was taken aback by his guest’s sudden requests. King Rodor anticipated him and turned back to him. “Apologies for my candor, we are exhausted and happy to be alive.”

“Where were the Saxons you faced?”

King Rodor smiled shrewdly. “In our lands to the South, Uther. Nothing for you to worry about, not yet. But they are getting stronger each season, and they cross the narrow sea with bigger boats each time.”

“I am sorry to hear about what has befallen you. Have you lost any men?”

“We lost one.” Rodor turned back and beckoned one of his servants. “It was a shame. He was young and brave, and he would have made a good warrior.” The servant came forward to Rodor with two unsaddled horses. “We received help unexpectedly from some Sarmatian warriors. We received two of their horses and they’ve asked us to gift them to Prince Arthur, and we have this one from our fallen comrade. Please accept these fine beasts as part of our gifts.”

Arthur watched his father accept the powerful horses with grace, despite the obvious issues this would create for Dennett. Arthur marveled at the Sarmatian beasts, they were much calmer than the other horses and took in their surroundings with clever eyes.

Gwen and several of the Pendragon staff accepted the gifts King Rodor offered: two large metal shields, finely decorated but also heavy, as well as tin and spices from faraway places.

“It would be our honor if you would join our feast. We were just ready to eat,” King Uther offered.

“I thank you. I will make my introductions but then I will be off. I hope our quarters are quiet at night.”

Uther glanced at Holden, who nodded. “Certainly,” Uther said with confidence. “Allow me to show you inside.”

“Yes, lead the way. It’s been a while since I have seen your fine halls. Arthur, Morgana, you both look well.”

Arthur glanced at Lady Morgana and they followed Uther and Rodor up the steps. Arthur was well pleased that his father was out of sorts. Holden looked thoroughly provoked.

As Arthur followed his father, he heard King Rodor speak, more softly this time, “Uther, I must impose on you once more. In a few days I am to receive a special guest. I’m afraid it cannot wait. I am hoping you will accommodate him here. It is of high importance to me and perhaps to you as well. I promise he will not interfere with the peace treaties.” The man slapped Uther on the shoulder confidently.

“Certainly, we will find him a place.”

Arthur grinned uneasily. This would be the last straw for Holden.

As they walked back, Morgana prodded him in the side. “You know, I was serious before.”

“About what?”

“About offering some of our gifts to Lady Vivian. The jewelry. She has not been offered anything during her stay here and it is not befitting.”

They passed through the corridors, back into the warm banquet hall and were once more greeted with the pleasant scents of wine and warm food. “You’re absolutely right, Morgana. I will take care of it in the morning.”

She nodded curtly at him and turned back to return to her seat in time for the proper introductions to begin.

As Arthur approached his own seat, he saw Merlin standing near the wall, behind his chair, ready to serve wine with a pitcher in hand. He looked neutral and impassive. Arthur knew by now that it didn’t mean anything. He ignored him and sat down confidently, though inwardly he felt as if he had been defeated and it was tearing a hole through his insides.

King Rodor introduced himself, complimented King Uther, and bowed to all the other attending guests of note and within minutes he was gone, leaving to retreat to his chambers. The other kings made light of it, though they were clearly all thoroughly offended at this behavior.

Arthur pulled his weight during the evening’s progress and got into deep political talk with King Godwyn.

“We have had peaceful times in Gawant,” the grey haired king said with a sigh. He looked the most at ease, between all the kings. “Of course, now that we have forbidden literacy among the common folk, reign is quiet. It is a fine way of life.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at that. “Few commoners ever learn to read, why was a law necessary?”

“Why? To put a stop to their understanding of politics, of course. As soon as they begin, they start teaching others and then it becomes a real mess,” Godwyn said with a light chuckle.

“Quite,” Arthur replied, offering him a smile he wasn’t certain he felt. “Perhaps it’s also your fortune that the Saxons are nowhere close to your borders.”

“Oh, my boy I did not say we had no troubles. We are being pestered by the druids all year round, and we have had Celts from the Western Isles at our shores.” He took a large swig from his goblet. “They wiped out several druid villages, in fact. Though my daughter’s maidservants said they weren’t Celts, but seals. I’m not certain what she means by that.”

“Well, if they kill druids, perhaps you should delay your resistance to them,” King Uther offered.

“What is your stance on magic, good king?” Arthur inquired, ignoring his father.

“Why, it must be forbidden, of course,” Godwyn said pleasantly. “It’s all the druids’ fault. They keep bringing it back. It’s like people talking about the Holy Grail. Once you put it into their minds, they can’t get rid of the thought to search for it. Did you know there’s a shrine in the woodlands, right in the mountains, er, at the beacons. It’s been standing there probably for a hundred years, and we never even noticed!”

“The beacons? That’s close to the borders,” Arthur remarked.

“Yes, we knew there was some trade going on between our local people and the druids in the mountains. But you know, we thought it was just herbs.”

“It’s more than that?”

“Yes, they are sharing mead and music, telling tales of foreign lands and famous, uh, priests and whatnot. It’s terrible really. Each time we drive the druids away, the peasants give us dirty looks.”

“We experienced something similar up North where they invaded our lands and created settlements,” Uther piped in. “Keep hammering them, they have no fortifications. Winter is a good time to attack. They never last. And when their older generations dwindle, they can’t teach their young men to fight properly.”

King Alined nodded contemplatively. “And drive them away from water, it is important to their rituals.”

Arthur looked at his cup of wine, and added, “Have they ever attempted to outwardly challenge your laws, sire?”

Godwyn regarded him curiously. “They continually refuse to bend the knee. And they teach their children to read, and perform rituals that do not belong to our lands. Those are certainly crimes.”

“Certainly.”

Trickler walked around with the pitcher of Godwyn’s wine and refilled the royal goblets. He offered Arthur some drink, which he accepted gladly. His goblet was filled to the brim and he spilled some as he brought it back in front of him. Godwyn laughed.

“How is your daughter, Princess Elena?” King Uther asked.

The king flinched momentarily. He turned to Uther with a bright smile and said, “She grows more beautiful every day!”

“Then we should be delighted to meet her. Why don’t you pay us a visit in the spring?” Uther was looking meaningfully in Arthur’s direction.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful. Without having her mother around, she might take some examples from Lady Morgana.” Godwyn gestured to her. “A toast to Lord Gorlois, he was a brave man and was always fine company.”

Morgana offered him a soft smile and raised her glass. “Thank you, my lord. I look forward to meeting Princess Elena at last.”

When Arthur had finished his wine, Trickler came up to him once more. “Sire, would you like more wine?”

“No, thank you.”

“Has good King Godwyn’s wine not been pleasant?”

“It certainly has.” Arthur smiled.

“I do not take offense.” Godwyn drank some more from his own cup.

“All is good and well, Prince Arthur.” Trickler leaned closer. “Might I request a private audience?”

“This is possible, follow me,” Arthur conceded. “Father, pray excuse me, I will make it an early night.”

“Shall I attend you, my lord?” Trickler smiled. “If my king will allow me?”

King Alined lifted a gloved hand, approving the request. Uther nodded quietly, stroking his chin. Arthur rather expected his father to anticipate Trickler coming forward with a political request in private. The other kings would be playing their own games, for certain.

“Lead the way,” Arthur allowed and got up from his chair. He did not turn to look at Merlin. Not now. He couldn’t bear to see his expression, nor the lack thereof.

Trickler made a ridiculous jump in the air and pranced out of the banquet hall. Though he was wearing normal clothes, he seemed entirely at ease with himself and jested whenever he could. It seemed at odds with King Alined’s reserved attitude. It made him wonder. Arthur followed him curiously as they strode through the darkened hallways. “You have learned many jests. Were you always a manservant, or…?”

“Oh, no no, that is only for the last few years. I was a bard and a performer. The woman I married was part of King Alined’s household.”

Arthur frowned. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, no. We were not together. I mean, not anymore.”

They arrived at his chambers and Arthur went in first. He automatically went to stand next to his wardrobe and it took Trickler a few seconds to realize what Arthur expected. He pranced over to stand in front of him. Arthur really thought that the man was something hideous. But he certainly worked with care as he took his crown, removed his cape, belts, and royal doublet. He wasn’t as proper as George, but his manner was extremely careful.

“What is it you really wanted to talk to me about?”

“I just want to make a suggestion, sire,” Trickler said with a sly grin.

“Speak then, though I cannot make any promises right here.” Arthur lowered his head and lifted his eyebrows.

“I understand, sire.” The man licked his lips and it was something vile. “I aim to speak to you in private about King Alined’s kingdom. He does not have an heir.”

Arthur shrugged out of his undershirt. “The man is not married, you mean?”

“He was, but she was dead before she bore him a child. Say, do you happen to know what your father would do if you should pass, in battle for example?” Trickler’s dark eyes regarded him directly, though his posture was submissive.

“Excuse me?” Arthur frowned, then collected himself. “You mean who his heir would be. This information is confidential, kept secure. I do not have access to it.”

“Oh, certainly. I just thought you might know.” Trickler knelt to take off Arthur’s boots.

“I do not. Nor do I wish to know.”

“But if you knew, or if you had to guess…”

“I’m not going to!”

“No, of course not, sire. I’m just meaning to say, who would you appoint?” Trickler stood upright again with his boots in hand and an unhappy attempt at a grin on his face.

“Is there something you wish for me to bring up in the council meeting? Is this it? Do you want to be King Alined’s heir yourself? I’m sorry, Trickler, but it is unheard of. You would be a fool to expect it.”

“Most certainly, sire! And I am a fool, to be sure, but I do not expect it at all. But then one never knows what to expect, kingdoms are such fragile things after all.”

Arthur was dressed in his night shirt and took off his mother’s ring. He turned his back to Trickler. “They are, but they are also well-protected.” As he said so, he noticed several parchments laying out on his work desk and his ink jar being closed. He could not remember closing it himself. Five parchments lay out with five identical messages. His eyes scanned the words and for a moment Arthur forgot to breathe.

There were five identical letters, directed at important local lords in various directions within Camelot asking about the whereabouts of Lancelot. They were written in proper lettering and unsigned. Now he knew where Merlin had been during the feast.

“Sire?”

He frowned and wished it wouldn’t move him this much. He’d had enough of all Merlin’s obstinate resistance, all his ducking and faltering. It _hurt_. He signed his name under all five of the parchments and threw the feather pen down, creating at least three dark blotches on one of the notes. He didn’t touch it. Everything was at once too much for him.

“Sire?” Trickler stood next to his bed, on the wrong side, with the sheets turned down for him. Several decorative pillows weren’t removed, but then the man probably didn’t realize it.

“Yes, thank you, Trickler. Ensure these letters are sent. You are dismissed for the evening.”

“Yes, sire. I will stay until I am certain you are asleep. I hope you don’t mind, it is a habit I picked up with my king.”

“Do what you like, just close the door behind you.” Arthur got on the bed and laid down. He fell asleep uneasily and with Trickler’s watchful eyes on him.

  
**\-----46 Merlin-----**

Merlin didn’t get any changes to the schedule, so he showed up for his work as he normally would. He was determined to be pleasant, no matter what the day brought. He resolutely pushed through the door in Arthur’s chamber and blinked against the light. The curtains were open and light was streaming in. The room was fresh but not freezing.

“Good morning, sire!” he said confidently, and placed his breakfast on the dining table.

“Never have you been more right, Merlin. It is the sunniest, most fragrant, the most beautiful morning I have ever seen in my life.”

Well, he thought, that was a good start. “You’re dressed,” Merlin noticed.

“I’m the future King of Camelot. I do have some skills, you know.”

He couldn’t place Arthur’s behavior. “Indeed, you are very skilled. At getting people to do things _for_ you.” He thought that it might trigger a reaction. Go back to something normal between them.

“It is your job. But today my job is to woo.”

“To what?” Merlin had no idea what was up with him this morning.

“To woo. I wish to make a proclamation of love!” The prince came to stand before Merlin, face to face. Everything in his expression was open and inviting.

Merlin’s heart sunk into his boots. And he felt equally light as a feather as he did petrified. “Really? I thought this was supposed to be a secret?” He frowned uncertainly. And then it became worse.

“Why would it? By the end of the day I will have won my lady.”

Merlin lifted his eyebrows and looked Arthur straight in the eyes. “Right," he said with confusion. Obviously, Arthur was joking. It had to be.

“What lady would that be?” He held his breath.

“Why, the beautiful Lady Vivian of course!”

Merlin snorted. The same one Arthur had called rude and self-important—a big joke coming from the royal prat himself. He wasn’t even interested in women. Was he just saying it to hurt him?

“So, I need your help in… expressing my feelings.”

Merlin blinked at him. “Of course.”

Arthur got impatient. “How do I express my feelings?”

“Oh! I see.” He realized with shock that Arthur wasn’t playing. He had to think on his feet. “Feelings.”

“Feelings!” the prince exclaimed.

“Girls?”

“Girls!” Arthur repeated.

There was something seriously wrong. “No idea, really.” Apparently Arthur had had a complete change of mind, or something was specifically affecting him.

Arthur beamed. “Then I will go to her at once!” He spun on his heel energetically.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Merlin demanded.

The prince turned around and gave him a curious look. “I don’t think so.” And he all but hopped out of the room.

He was certain now that something was seriously amiss. Had he eaten something odd yesterday? He couldn’t think what. Was he still asleep somehow? Drunk? That wasn’t it either. He panicked. King Olaf would not look kindly if Arthur did something foolish. He bit his lips and went straight to Gaius. There was only one possible answer.

  
***

“Magic?” Gaius asked him, minutes later. They stood in the far corner of his workshop where Gaius had a very unpleasant smelling preparation ready, no doubt one of his various experiments for Lady Vivian.

“I’m certain, and it wasn’t my doing.” He trembled. He had never told his mentor anything about Arthur’s personal revelations. How could he, when they were about him? He had to find a way around it, to provide Gaius only with the smallest facts.

“What is it, Merlin?”

“Arthur’s in love.”

Gaius sighed. “That is not necessarily a result of magic, Merlin. These things happen.”

“Arthur's completely besotted, he can't concentrate on anything. All he thinks about, all he talks about is,” he gasped, “Lady Vivian.”

Gaius turned fully to him, putting down the tweezers he had been using. “If Arthur professes his love for Vivian, Olaf will be furious. Surely, Arthur knows that?”

“He’s not thinking of King Olaf, he’s thinking of nothing at all. Gaius, it isn’t right! He doesn’t even _like_ her.”

“You don’t think that Arthur could have had a change of heart? She is a very pretty young woman.”

Merlin shook his head, tasting bile. “No, not Arthur. He has said so very clearly.”

“You know, Merlin.” Gaius walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Until yesterday I might not have believed you. But now that I know, I do.”

“What?” Merlin eyed Gaius with deep worry. He held his breath.

Gaius lifted his eyebrow. “Lady Vivian is a truly, truly horrid woman. There is simply no way Arthur can truly be in this with his heart.”

The world threatened to topple for Merlin, he was dizzy and he sat down. As soon as he felt steady, relief washed over him. Gaius believed him, and would help him. And he was still in the dark about Arthur, entirely. Perhaps he could pull himself together enough to get Arthur out of this.

“But who did this, and why?” Gaius pondered aloud.

“I should have realised he had magic. No one can make butterflies appear from thin air.”

“Who do you mean, Merlin?”

“Trickler,” Merlin said, furrowing his brow as he started unraveling what he knew.

“I wasn’t there during the feast, but I heard it was all very remarkable.”

“Remarkable indeed. Why would he want Arthur to fall in love with Vivian?” He thought about Trickler’s special attention to Arthur the previous evening. That must have been when he did whatever he did.

“An advance by Arthur would be a sure-fire way to ruin the peace conference. Maybe Alined wants to prevent the treaty from happening.”

“He wants war?” Merlin asked. “Why is he here then?”

“Exactly to make sure that it happens,” Gaius said.

“Uther must know about this,” Merlin said with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“We can do no such thing! If Uther finds out that magic is being used to thwart the plans for the peace treaty, there shall most certainly be a war!”

“Then what can we do?”

“We need to find a way of turning Arthur back to normal, before it’s too late.”

Merlin nodded and ran out of the workshop. His heart thudded wildly in his chest before he had even broken a sweat running. The castle was bustling and people were walking everywhere, obstructing his way up to the wing dedicated to Olaf and his party. He went straight to Lady Vivian, as that’s where Arthur had said he would go.

Perhaps the spell would not have lasted that long, and Arthur would have had a change of heart, and then everything would be back to normal. Or maybe Arthur hadn’t gotten inside of Lady Vivian’s chambers at all. Eda would certainly be a powerful force to reckon with. Unless Arthur did something stupid, which Merlin was pretty certain he _would_.

As he climbed the stairs, three steps at a time, he knew this wasn’t just about saving Arthur, or Camelot; it was about saving his own sanity. He wished everyone else would just leave, so he could have peace of mind to figure it out. But he could not will all the guests away, not when the result might be peace. It might still be, if he was in time.

When he arrived at Lady Vivian’s door, he saw that Eda was at the end of the hall, walking towards him with a basket full of linen in his direction. “Oh no,” he said. Eda saw him and started to say something when Merlin pushed through the door at once.

Time froze.

In front of Merlin stood Prince Arthur and Lady Vivian locked in an embrace. They were kissing, or at least their mouths were locked. They stood frozen in time, and Merlin rasped painfully for breath at the sight of it. Everything about it was completely, utterly wrong. _Go_ , he thought, and in a wink everything came back into motion. Eda bumped in behind him, unavoidably taking in the spectacle before them.

“Lady Vivian!” the woman gasped. “Prince Arthur!” she said more loudly. She put the laundry basket onto the floor loudly to try and snap them out of it. They seemed oblivious. Merlin felt sick and angry. His insides roiled.

The two disengaged from their kiss and looked at each other lovingly. Lady Vivian had a smile on her face and there was a sheen to her cheeks Merlin had not yet seen. She held Arthur’s hands, and he held hers. Merlin’s gaze was set murderously at Lady Vivian. Until he remembered himself.

Eda was pulling Lady Vivian away from Arthur and swearing at him, “When King Olaf hears about this. You are the worst rank of manhood, you clotpole!”

Merlin shook his head. Eda had the right of it.

“Eda, wait.” Merlin stepped forward and pushed Arthur aside, so he could talk to her.

“You had better have a really good explanation for yourself, Prince Arthur,” Eda fumed. Her hands were balled into fists and Merlin had no doubt that she would use them.

“My love, do not be moved by these harsh words,” Lady Vivian cooned.

“My love?” Eda frowned.

“Eda, please,” Merlin interrupted. “There’s something going on. They are not themselves.”

Eda’s large brown eyes looked him over. “Clearly they are not.”

“What I mean to say—” Merlin kept pushing Arthur backwards, as the prince was once more trying to lean in and take a hold of Lady Vivian’s hands. “What I’m trying to say—” He wasn’t certain he should say anything at all.

“No one can keep us apart, my love!” Arthur said, and pushed Merlin aside roughly to find his way around Eda to embrace Vivian. Once more they were kissing.

“This, this is not the Arthur I know, Eda, trust me.”

“This is nothing like Lady Vivian either,” she gasped. “I’ve never seen her like this. Do you think it is her affliction?”

“Then why would it happen to Arthur too?”

“Perhaps it is a curse after all,” Eda frowned.

“Perhaps,” Merlin lied. It was better than to announce that magic was involved. “We cannot tell her father. We have to keep them apart and figure it out. I will help.”

“Yes, of course,” Eda said. They both pushed in between the couple and before they could grab a hold of each other Lady Vivian was effectively seated in her chair and Arthur was several feet away, looking happy and very much in love.

Merlin looked at the door opening and his eyes widened when he saw Gwen. She had seen everything, perhaps heard more than she should have.

“Gwen, wait.”

She left in a flurry of skirts.

“ _Gwen!_ ” Merlin called. “I need some help, _please!_ ”

Merlin was leaning an arm against Arthur’s chest, as he was flailing and trying once more to obtain his single-minded goal. Arthur was a great deal heavier than Merlin, and Merlin’s boots slid along the floor slowly.

Gwen appeared once more in the door opening, a thunderous look on her face. “Only because you are asking, Merlin.”

He knew she was hurting too. Arthur had been rude to her just the other day, and Lady Vivian had as well. And now this. He dreaded to think what Arthur might have said. “Arthur is not himself, Gwen, you have to believe me.”

“I can hear the whispers that try to keep us apart, my dearest! We cannot be fooled by them. We must follow our hearts!” Arthur proclaimed.

Gwen frowned curiously and stepped into the room. It sounded nothing like Arthur at all.

“I will be ready for thee, waiting as I always have, my dearest, Arthur!”

Eda sat her weight down on Lady Vivian’s lap, effectively blocking her from getting up. “Please, leave. Take him out of here. I don’t know what will happen, if…”

She did not need to finish her sentence. Merlin knew it already. What if her father walked in, what if anyone else walked in? What if they overpowered them and could not be taken apart a third time. What if Lady Vivian’s affliction began?

“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin said and started pushing him. “Gwen, help me bring him back to his room.”

“Our paths shall cross again, my dearest, Lady Vivian, in the sweetest roads our hearts can take.”

“What is he talking about,” Gwen asked and stood on his other side.

“It’s all jibberish,” Merlin said. “Please let’s just hurry.” Together they pushed Arthur out of the door, checking that no one, or at least nearly no one was around, before roughly shoving him down the corridor while he resisted every so often.

“No, I have to go back. My love is there!”

With their combined efforts they managed to push him into his room. Gwen looked both bewildered and horrified.

“When did this start?

“I have no idea. He looked fine at the feast, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Merlin pondered aloud.

“I must be released to follow my heart’s desire, Lady Vivian!” Arthur said. His eyes were aimed over their heads at the door.

Gwen was miserable. Merlin saw her setting her resolve though and jutting her chin in determination. “Okay, what do we do?”

“I must speak with Gaius, I don’t know who else might have any idea where to start.” He bit his lip. “Will you stay here with him?” She did not look happy. He hated having to ask her.

“Yes, I will. I will lock the door and keep the key with me.”

Arthur looked pointedly at Gwen. He was entirely ignoring Merlin. “The key to unlocking my heart is Lady Vivian. You must help me. Shall I be free to pursue her once more?”

Gwen frowned at him. He looked pointedly at the door and advanced again.

“Hold it right there,” Merlin called out and pushed him back.

“Leave him, I’ve got it covered.”

“Thank you, Gwen. I owe you one.”

  
***

Back in Gaius’ workshop, Merlin’s arms were suddenly loaded up with a stack of dusty books. “This is all I could find on love potions, enchantments, and spells. It’s not much.”

“Gaius, you have got to be kidding me.” Merlin sagged under their weight and gripped them tighter.

“This will not be easy, Merlin. The working of the heart is tricky, you need to be precise. Did you find out anything helpful?”

“No, except...” He moved towards his room, the books were just too heavy. “The same thing has happened to Lady Vivian. Whoever is behind this has planned it meticulously.”

“Find what caused it, Merlin. And hurry!”

  
***

Gaius came to check on him early in the afternoon. “King Uther and the other kings are already seated in the council chambers. They are going over the maps now, making comparisons and defining borders. I’ve spent a brief moment there to inform King Rodor that his servant Widigast will be blind in one eye.”

Merlin hadn’t gone past the kitchens to take Arthur’s lunch tray, and the staff must be missing Gwen, performing Morgana’s duties, and Eda would not have been seen doing Vivian’s. Merlin feared everyone would start to wonder. He had no time to complete his search.

“There are 636 love spells in these books, and over 150 of them sound exactly like what’s going on. I don’t even know where to begin,” Merlin complained.

“Have you narrowed it down?”

“Yes, I’ve got… about a dozen spells that might be it, and only seven of those have decent counter-spells. But I don’t know which one it is, and—if I make a mistake…”

“The consequences could be dire,” Gaius conceded. “But Merlin, can you get close enough to Lady Vivian to help her out of it? If Olaf finds out—”

“I think I can.” He closed the last stuffy book and took a deep breath. “I have to try.”

  
***

Merlin was shattered, running on low energy and even less confidence to solve the problem at hand. He practically shoved people aside in order to reach his destination. He didn’t even slow his pace past the doors to the council chamber, eager to be away from it and let the kings do their work. Once he arrived on the other side of the castle, back at Lady Vivian’s door, he sighed to himself. He held the potion vial in his hand and knocked on the door.

“I’m sorry, Lady Vivian isn’t seeing anyone!” came Eda’s reply.

“Eda, it’s me.”

“Merlin!”

He pushed through the door to see Lady Vivian in a night shirt with a dressing gown over it. He blinked and closed the door behind him. She looked upset and was holding on to the bed post as if it was her lifeline.

“What brings you to us at such a… late hour,” Eda said meaningfully.

“What?” He noticed that the curtains were drawn and that the fire in the hearth was low. Eda gestured to him meaningfully and eyed in Lady Vivian’s direction. “Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I thought that I could bring this to prevent the unease that your love’s distress brings you through the night.”

“Yes, my lady,” Eda agreed.

“Oh, how my heart longs to see my true love, Arthur. And how it pains me to be parted.” She drew her brows together and held a hand over her heart.

“I’ve brought you relief from that pain, my lady.” He turned to Eda. “And we must have warm water. Please, could you bring it here? I will stay with her.”

Eda eyed him suspiciously for a moment.

“Please, I am doing anything I can to help. And we can’t involve anyone else.”

“Alright then, how much water do you need?”

“A bucket full, at least. And an empty bucket too.”

Eda left and Merlin sighed in relief. He didn’t need warm water at all but it would take her some time to get it. He pocketed the potion vial and took out an empty one, placing it on the night stand and stood in front of Lady Vivian. She was about to wail at him, tell him something about her love for Arthur, but Merlin held up a hand and said, “ _Abuge ágl?ccræft_.”

It didn’t work. He tried it again, and spoke with intent, “ _Abuge ágl?ccræft_.”

She merely sighed and pulled her robe more tightly around her shoulders. “If only he could see how I am suffering, my Arthur.”

Merlin tried a different spell and another and another. At one point a lock of Vivian’s hair started looking somewhat green and Merlin gulped. “That can’t be right.”

As he completed the incantation of the seventh spell a strange music was heard in the back of the room, and Lady Vivian looked up at him momentarily. He paused, hopeful. Had he done it? Was this it?

“I cannot tell you how much I love him, Prince Arthur. I have always sought to have him by my side!” She picked up Merlin’s hands as she professed her love once more and looked at him straight.

Merlin lowered his hand, his face crumpled and he felt tears burning at the corners of his eyes. She looked back at him with her bright smile, so outside the reality of the world. “I am so sorry, Lady Vivian. I can’t seem to undo whatever this enchantment is. I don’t know what else to try.”

At that moment the door behind him flew open and collided with a bang against the wall. Merlin nearly jumped out of his shoes and swallowed his heart back down. He turned around and saw Arthur striding back in. The sleeve of his shirt was partly torn seemingly from where Gwen had been trying to hold on. She stumbled into the room behind him. “I’m sorry, Merlin. The door to his chambers was suddenly open, I could not stop him!”

Merlin bulldozed as well as he could into Arthur in an attempt to keep him away from Vivian. “I thought that you said you would lock it,” Merlin said.

“I did!”

“Arthur, stop!” Merlin shouted. He pushed Arthur back roughly and for a second Arthur seemed to regard him. But his eyes shot away once more, seeking for his one true object.

“I have found my love, I know she is here!”

“Arthur, is that you?” She came out from behind Merlin and rushed forward. Once more they were locked into a heavy, passionate kiss and Merlin put his hands in his hair.

“I don’t know why this is happening!” he said. He tried to pry Arthur away, but this time, a broad arm swatted him away.

“Sire? Sire!” There was a stumbling outside in the hallway. Gwen turned around in the door opening and stood face to face with King Olaf. Behind him Eda was scurrying along with two buckets, one filled with warm water and one empty. Vivian and Arthur were still kissing. Vivian’s arms were around Arthur’s back and his were around her shoulders, holding on tightly. They were making out like there was no one there at all.

“What is the meaning of this?!” His voice was loud enough that Merlin saw the curtains billow. Moving inside the room from the hallway came King Uther, King Alined, Trickler—looking smug, Merlin noted—Morgana, Holden, and Sir Kay. They all beheld the spectacle with various gasps and groans.

“She’s not even properly dressed,” Trickler fed to King Olaf’s shoulder. Merlin could strangle him.

Finally the pair broke off their kiss. Arthur turned around and looked Olaf straight in the eyes. “King Olaf, we’ve got something to tell you.”

Lady Vivian’s eyes scanned the room with glee. Merlin regarded the kings who stood in astonishment.

“You have offended my honor! I will not stand for it!”

“We wish to marry!” Arthur said, with a pleasant smile aimed at King Olaf. Vivian wasn’t meeting her father’s eyes. She held on to Arthur’s arm tightly.

“That is absurd!”

“Arthur? Is this true?” Morgana asked.

“I love Lady Vivian. This is not absurd,” Arthur continued. “Father, tell him.”

Merlin took the full bucket of water from Eda and put it down near the fire.

“Love?!” Olaf barked. “You don’t know the first thing about love! You’re taking advantage of an innocent girl!” He took off his leather glove and threw it on the ground before Arthur.

“I assure you, my feelings for your daughter are as real as they are strong.” Arthur frowned momentarily. He knelt and picked up the glove.

There were tears in Vivian’s eyes. She had still not spoken to her father.

“Unhand her or suffer the consequences! Is this really worth risking your life for?” Olaf glowered.

“Arthur, think of what you’re doing,” Uther urged him. He was as puzzled as the rest.

“I love your daughter with all my heart, and so, I accept your challenge.”

“Stop this nonsense at once!” Uther declared and he took the glove from Arthur’s hand. “You will not challenge Olaf for Vivian’s hand.”

“I already have, father.” Arthur smiled brilliantly.

Uther looked him straight in the eye and Arthur did not falter for a moment. Even with Uther’s most impressive glare, Arthur stood unchanged before him. Eventually Uther stood down and turned to the other kings.

“Gwen, alert the kitchens, there will be no feast tonight. Sir Kay, inform the other kings of this news.” The two of them left. “We shall have our lunches separately in order to prepare and dress. Holden, run down to the armory and have the tournament grounds prepared. Are the benches still there?”

“No sire,” Holden said with a sour face. “Spectators will have to stand.”

“Then prepare the braziers, to keep them warm.”

Merlin’s head was spinning, absurdly disconnected from reality. He tried to catch Arthur’s eye for just a moment’s recognition, but he still wasn’t looking at him. Then he heard his name called.

“You will take Arthur up to his room and keep him there. The tourney will be held tomorrow and I want no interference. Arthur, you are not to see her until the tournament is over, do you understand me?

“Yes, sire,” Merlin answered. Arthur said nothing.

Uther did not spare Merlin a second glance. He turned around instead to Lady Vivian’s maid. “You there, your name?”

“Eda, sire.”

“Eda, you will ensure that, similarly, Lady Vivian is keeping to her chambers. We shall have no outdoor entertainment for her today.”

“I will stay with her,” Morgana said suddenly, stepping forward. “If she is to follow through with this, she will need to prepare. I shall have my lunch with Lady Vivian.” Uther regarded her for a moment, curiously, and nodded.

King Alined looked exceedingly pleased, and Merlin noticed that Trickler was already gone from the room. When the kings left the room, it was just Vivian, Eda, Morgana, and Arthur standing beside him. Arthur seemed to have calmed down a bit. He was looking at the glove in his hand as if it held some clue.

“Arthur, what’s gotten into you?” Morgana pried. She slapped him across the face. Arthur did not respond. Morgana looked at Merlin with surprise in her eyes and Merlin shrugged. “He’s been like this since early this morning. I don’t know what could have gotten into him.”

“Lady Vivian.” Morgana turned to her instead. “You need to call it off, don’t you know what you’ve begun?”

“I need to, I love my Arthur.”

“Your Arthur? What are you saying?” Morgana pried into Vivian’s eyes. “Would you truly see either your father or Arthur perish for your love to be defined?”

Eda shook her head. She folded her arms and looked at Vivian sternly. Vivian looked at Morgana, at Arthur, and then at Merlin. She suddenly seemed uncertain. “What if I cannot follow my heart?”

“You might follow your heart, but your father’s challenge is to the death.”

“I don’t want my love to die!” She held her fists by her side and stood trembling. Arthur was still standing with the glove in his hand.

Merlin took the glove out of Arthur’s hand and it was as if he could not break free from the glove, nor look at Merlin. “We need to go, Arthur.”

Morgana helped Vivian into a seat. “Then why don’t you both give it some time to prove this love of yours. And why don’t we send a message to the kings saying that we shall wait until the peace treaty is signed, and see what your fathers both think about everything.”

Lady Vivian turned to Morgana with a bright smile. “Yes, let us prove it!”

Morgana turned to Merlin. “Merlin? Let’s do all we can to help them.” The way she looked at him signified something entirely different from what she actually said. She told him to find out what was really happening, purely with her eyes.

He nodded at her and started pushing Arthur out. “Yes, Lady Morgana.”

“Tell the kings there will be no tournament, right, Vivian?”

She beamed at Morgana in a way that she had not yet smiled, bright and free and open.

“And you, Arthur?”

“I am no coward,” he began. “I must prove my love for Lady Vivian.”

Merlin’s face faltered. “No, you must not! Arthur, listen to me!” He stood straight in front of him, but Arthur poignantly ignored him.

“You can prove it differently, Arthur,” Morgana said. “Because her father will have to agree, whether you like it or not.” She came to stand in front of him and took one of his hands into her own. “Whatever you are seeking, you can find it somewhere else. Keep looking, Arthur.”

Merlin stared at Morgana. Arthur, still somewhat muddled, followed with his eyes where Morgana held his hand, up her arm, and eventually regarded her. “I will keep looking.”

“Good, now that that’s settled. Merlin, will you pass on the message that the tournament is not happening?” She smiled and let go of Arthur’s hand, and whispered to Merlin, “See if Gaius knows anything about this.”

“O-of course, perhaps he does,” Merlin stammered. She couldn’t have known about all the trouble they had already went through.

Morgana sat down next to Vivian on one of the dining chairs. “Now then, why don’t you tell me about it.”

With the greatest gratitude, Merlin left Lady Vivian’s chambers with Arthur in tow. Before they had even reached Arthur’s chambers, Merlin had quite a mind to break down and cry, but it was prevented by the knights showing up. All of them.

Each and every knight in the castle, including Arni and Gudrun had heard about Arthur’s marriage proposal and they were all thrilled and anxious. Several of the men slapped him on the shoulder to encourage him for the battle ahead. They thought it was very noble and very romantic, even if it was entirely out of the blue.

Merlin explained to them that he needed to pass on messages to the king, and that Arthur was not allowed to leave, on account of the purity of their betrothal. The men laughed at him, said they understood and essentially shoved him out of the door. Even then, Arthur did not look at him. It stabbed like a spear through his heart.

He hadn’t been able to do anything. Trickler’s magic was too powerful. Arthur and Vivian’s exclamations fueled their ardor even further and now they were all but betrothed. Arthur might be lost to him forever. Even if the spell did not last, he was certain that Trickler would make it last until the marriage vows were complete, or that war would break out. Even if the marriage happened and King Olaf consented, he was almost certain that Trickler would hurt either the bride or the groom in order to achieve war. No one was safe.

“Holden!” he called out when he saw the man in the hallway. Holden paused and waited for him to catch up.

“Arthur is calling off the tournament, he prefers to take the righteous path and prove his love when the peace treaties are over.”

“I don’t believe you,” Holden said. “Who is watching Arthur?”

“What? The knights are watching him. Look, are you—”

“Prince Arthur _never_ backs down from a challenge. You know this as well as I do.”

“He gave me the glove.” Merlin took it out of his pocket to show him. “This is King Olaf’s glove. He would have held onto it until the tournament was over if he was serious. You can go ask him yourself, if you like.”

Holden stared at the glove and looked at Merlin hard. “Uther says this will start a war, whatever the outcome is. He is most unhappy with his son.”

“Yes, it’s better if this tournament never happens. The peace treaties must come first.”

“Why has he backed down?”

“It was Lady Vivian’s request. She would not see either her father or Arthur die for her love.”

“Then her love is not very strong,” Holden concluded.

Merlin shook his head, making sure he did not display the utter repulsion of Holden’s statement on his face. “Lady Morgana is staying with Lady Vivian to keep her company. She will have her meals served there, please tell Gwen.”

“Merlin.” Holden paused him once more. “Make sure Arthur comes out of this unscathed, make sure his honor remains intact.”

“Always," he said with the purest determination. He turned away from Holden and returned to Gaius.

  
***

“I am so useless,” he moped. He hardly felt like eating the light chicken broth that was in front of him, mild as it was. He had gone over every possible scenario in his mind for the remainder of the afternoon. He had no idea what next step he should take.

“Don’t ever say that,” Gaius scolded him. He broke the large piece of bread on the table in half and offered Merlin a piece.

“I couldn’t break the spell. I don't understand it. Trickler's magic is strong, but surely it can't be stronger than mine?”

“These enchantments are strange things.”

“I can’t let him do this.” Merlin shook his head, stabbing his soup with his spoon.

“Then why don’t you ask the Great Dragon for help?”

Merlin looked up in surprise. He’d nearly forgotten that Gaius knew about that. He lowered his head so far it nearly hit the table. “There are too many people around. Too many servants. I can’t risk it.”

“Then what can you do?”

He thought it over, pondered. He weighed out all the options. If only he’d had Arthur to talk to about Trickler’s magic, they could do something to stop the man. If only he had a way into the council meetings to defuse their twisted plan. And then he had it.

“I might have an idea,” he said. His eyes lit up and he was off again, leaving Gaius somewhat bewildered with a piece of bread in his hand, hovering over his soup.

  
***

Merlin knocked quietly on the door. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Gwen, but it was somewhat odd to see her with her hair fully down and wearing an evening robe. Over her arm she carried one of Morgana’s deep purple dresses and was embroidering it with fine black and white lacework and pearls. Her work was the finest anyone spoke of.

“Gwen, what’s going on?”

“I’m staying here for a couple of nights, Merlin, I’m sure you’ve been told.” She offered him a guilty smile and opened the door further. She put the dress away and closed her box of threads and needles.

“Hmm, must have been. Is Morgana here?”

“Not yet,” Gwen said softly. “Do you want to come in?”

When he saw her worn expression he bit his lip. She’d had probably a crazy day, just like him. “Yes, thank you.” He came in and shut the door behind him. The curtains were closed, and there was a pleasant fire in the hearth. But Gwen was trembling.

“Oh Merlin, what has happened today?” Her brow knitted together and she looked into his eyes for answers he did not have.

“I don’t know, Gwen. And it frightens me,” he answered truthfully.

Gwen brushed her hair out of her face, but really Merlin could see that she was wiping a tear away. “I just thought that with everything going on… no, never mind, it’s stupid.”

“What is it?” he offered, his voice soft.

“Remember yesterday, when Arthur had upset me?”

Yesterday, it seemed an age away. Arthur had been normal. They had fought. Arthur had said _have it your way_ and they had not exchanged a proper word since. “Gwen, he does that sometimes,” he offered with a smile. “Don’t think too much of it.”

“No, you see, I’ve been thinking. What if… what if what he said yesterday was already part of what happened today? I mean, he is acting strange, and that’s certain, but…”

“What are you saying?”

“No, I think it’s stupid.”

“Gwen, you know you can tell me anything.”

Gwen shook her head, her curls swished around her head and settled over her back. She rubbed her hands together and had that determined look on her face Merlin knew so well. “He claimed he knew the shape of my heart, and I scolded him for it. I—” She paused and turned away. “How dare he make those assumptions?”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Merlin said, trying to calm his nerves.

“I know you do. I’m certain you do. Arthur told me it was your idea to send for him.”

“What?”

“Lancelot! For months now I’ve been left to ponder about what it all meant, what future lies ahead of me. And I would much rather that this decision is not made for me, but one that I discover on my own.”

“Gwen, I didn’t… that’s not…” Merlin smiled at her, trying to offer her reassurance. “We need him for a patrol. I’m sure he didn’t mean—”

“Oh, but he did. He was very clear about that.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows at her. “Well, what did he say?” His voice was constricted, as if it was too hard for him to even speak.

She shook her head. “It was as if he was already invested. When I saw him this morning, it all became clear.” Her voice trembled and her chin wobbled.

“Gwen, no, Gwen, that’s not true.” He leaned in and she hugged him, throwing her arms around him and weeping against his shoulder. “Whatever is happening with Lady Vivian, it’s some kind of scheme.” He held onto Gwen, her sobs shaking loose the final restraint of his emotion and he buried his head in her hair to try and hide his own tears.

“I know,” she sobbed, “but it’s so hard to see him like that.”

Merlin hugged her tightly. She had no idea how hard it was. After all he and Arthur had been through, had discussed, had left undiscussed. And now he might lose him forever.

Gwen pulled back softly, chuckling awkwardly at the two wet spots of tears she left on his blue shirt, staring back up at them. “This must be hard for you too, knowing that someone or something has taken hold of him.”

He nodded, trying his best to make light of it. “I’m afraid, Gwen. Afraid it might mean war, and—”

She bit her lip and wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hand. “God, I must look a mess.”

Merlin shook his head and wiped his own face with the whole sleeve of his arm. “Well, I would rather have rude and insensitive Arthur back than this. Right?”

She chuckled and reluctantly agreed. “I do hope this all blows over.”

The door opened again and Morgana strode in. She looked at the two of them and hurried over. “Goodness, what is the matter?”

“Oh, we were just saying how wonderful it is not to have been insulted by Arthur for a whole day.”

“It looks like you were rather hoping you would be,” Morgana commented. She looked at Gwen and gathered her into her arms for a quick hug. “It’s going to be alright, Gwen. The tournament is already canceled, I’ve talked Lady Vivian into proving to all the kings how sincere they are. That leaves us with time to sort this out.”

“Thank you, Morgana,” Merlin said quietly. “You’ve been, well, brilliant through all of this.”

Morgana pulled back and held onto Gwen’s hands for a moment longer, giving them a squeeze. “Well, I was invited to the council meetings, and when Arthur didn’t show up, I knew that I needed to do what I could to ensure we reach our objective. I don’t think any of the kings really want a war.”

 _You’re so wrong, Morgana._ “Who knows,” he said, his voice still broken.

“I’m going to turn in, if you don’t mind,” Gwen said and bowed. She walked over to the other side of the room, leaned over the bed, turned down Morgana’s side, and then strode to the other side of the bed to lie down.

“Morgana, I need to speak with you," Merlin said quietly. Morgana nodded at him and they went to sit at her vanity where they would have relative seclusion.

“Have you...” He looked down, seated on his small stool. “Have you read what I gave you?”

“I started, but there’s been almost no time I’ve had to myself. I’ve stored it somewhere else, somewhere safe.”

“Do you have any idea of what’s going on, at all?”

She shook her head. “I thought that Lady Vivian might be under attack by magic, since she’s been having these odd streaks, and I first thought that she might be bewitching him. But she doesn’t even _like_ Arthur, or respect him.”

Merlin rubbed his forehead and steeled himself, planting his feet more firmly onto the ground. “What if you could try to have another vision. Maybe you can see what needs to be done to get both of them out of this, to prevent war, and see all the kings appeased?”

“You’re asking me to do this? You can’t be serious.”

“Gwen already knows you have nightmares, Morgana. She will be there to support you if you wake up from something terrible. But if you see _anything_ that might help.”

Morgana regarded him from under her dark eyebrows. She nodded eventually and reached down, taking off her bracelet.

Merlin took his shot. “What is that?”

“It was a gift, it has helped me sleep.”

 _Gwen was right_. “What does it do, exactly, do you know?”

Morgana started taking out her earrings and the rest of her rings as well. “I don’t know. But I have not felt so exhausted, nor so troubled since I begun wearing it. I know it is magic, Merlin, but please don’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not, Morgana. And I wouldn’t be asking this of you if it wasn’t the very last thing I could think of.”

She reached out and touched his wrist. “No, I’m glad you did. I asked you to, remember?”

Merlin nodded and looked down. Her thumb stroked along the remaining scar he had from the cold iron bracelets. If she knew anything more about it, if she had any idea, she wasn’t saying. “If you learn anything, please find me and tell me. I will do anything I can.”

“Will you believe me?”

“I believe a gift like yours is not bestowed lightly, nor should their messages be. You are capable of handling this, I know you are.”

Morgana looked at him sincerely, conflicted between deep appreciation and worry. “I don’t even know if I can be of help to you, or to them.”

Merlin covered her hand on his wrist, with his other hand. “If you don’t see anything then I will have to keep searching. And you must trust me that I will.”

“I do.”

He got up and let go of her hands. He sniffed once more and let out a deep sigh. This had been the right thing to do. He was positive for once. “Good night, Morgana,” he said without her title.

“Good night,” she said with a nod.

Merlin left and retired to his own room for an uneasy sleep.

  
***

Merlin relieved Sir Bedivere and Sir Caridoc early in the morning, who had stood watch during the night. They told him that Arthur had behaved like child who had discovered the cookie jar, and that he’d been no fun at all. They hoped the marriage would be soon, so they could get back to discussing training and combat. Six guards were outside Arthur’s chambers this time. His schedule did not include the council meetings at all, since he would not speak of anything other than Lady Vivian, and it would not help the council further along.

Merlin had slept in short intervals of an hour, or a bit longer, only to wake with a feeling of dread and breaking out in a sweat. Had he done the right thing after all? Was asking Morgana the way to resolve this? Should he have snuck out to see the Great Dragon in the middle of the night?

When he entered Arthur’s chambers, the prince was seated by the hearth, reading a book. It was a novel, with poetry. Arthur didn’t even _like_ poetry. Merlin locked the door. The boar head trophy was lying on the dining table. He assumed the knights had taken it off the wall to play around with in their boredom. Merlin put the breakfast tray down beside Arthur, who didn’t look up at him. He was properly dressed, without his shoes, he noted, and with brown breeches and his white shirt.

A tub of dirty bath water sat in the corner of the room. At least he’d had the sense to clean himself, Merlin thought. Or perhaps the knights had outright told him to.

“Your breakfast, sire,” he offered. There was no recognition.

Arthur turned the page of his book.

“Arthur? Why don’t you speak to me?” Merlin was at his wit’s end. “Look, I know I’ve been harsh, and that this spell or enchantment is forcing you to behave in certain ways. But you’ve not crossed me once, or insulted me.”

Still, there was no response.

Merlin drooped away, holding his hands behind his neck and set about cleaning the room. They wouldn’t come to relieve him until it was time for lunch, and so he would be stuck with him until then. “I can’t bear it,” he said. “I’m sorry, sorry for everything I’ve said.”

Arthur started to eat his breakfast, though didn’t eat more than a few bites, and nor did he look at him or speak. He didn’t as much as acknowledge that he was in the room.

Merlin threw a small fit, howling in exasperation. He threw all the blankets and all the clothes around the room. He was no closer than the day before when all of this had started. When Arthur had said some stupid things to him about feelings and girls.

He spent the next hour-and-a-half cleaning up everything he had thrown around, wiping down the cabinets and re-draping the curtains along the bed posters. He wiped down the sword that was hidden inside the compartment in the poster on the left-hand side to where Arthur slept. He even took a small brush to brush the boar head, dusting it off. He did all of it by hand. Using magic in Arthur’s vicinity, in his current state, had also lost all its charm.

Arthur stood up and walked towards his desk. He put the book down and stretched. Merlin stood on the other side of the desk, he saw that the five letters were gone. “Arthur, I need you back, I can’t watch you do this. Why can’t I help you? You are everything to me. Don’t you know it’s killing me?” He couldn’t deal with it, being ignored like this. Emotions welled up inside of him and threatened to spill over at last.

Arthur still didn’t respond.

“If I can’t get you back to normal, Uther and Olaf will be contemplating war over this,” he tried to reason. “You know this is true. We can’t risk it.” His voice trembled. “Maybe this is what the Lady of the Lake mentioned,” he thought aloud.

Arthur started to walk back to the other side of the room. This time Merlin stopped him, pushing against Arthur’s shoulders with his hands and looked directly at him. “You stupid _clotpole_ , if you had _any_ idea how much I love you…” he said, and kissed him, drawing his arms forcefully around the prince’s shoulders.

Arthur stood stony. His lips were soft and warm, but unmoving. Merlin closed his eyes, held his breath, and didn’t let go. Then arms wrapped themselves around Merlin’s back, slowly at first but with more strength as they crossed behind him. He started to feel Arthur’s mouth respond to the kiss. Merlin broke away in alarm and saw Arthur looking at him, _smiling_ at him. No longer avoiding his gaze. It was the most glorious thing he had ever seen.

“You _do_ love me.” Arthur’s large blue eyes were intense, knocking the sense out of Merlin with more force than he could handle.

Merlin studied him curiously, his mouth and brain too shocked to respond.

“My mind is my own again, Merlin. And I heard _everything_.”

“Arthur?” he asked stupidly. Arthur’s arms were still around him and Merlin’s heart was in his throat, pounding so loud he heard it gushing through his ears.

“Yes,” Arthur answered him simply. “Yes to everything. I feel that I am myself again. Everything in my mind was so clouded. I couldn’t find you, but I knew you were there, watching over me.”

Merlin swallowed, he looked at Arthur’s lips, drew into them and kissed him again, furiously this time, uncoordinated, bumping noses, delicious, warm and wet. It was urgent and needy. Everything Arthur was, was back. _Everything_ was there, his for the taking.

And Arthur responded hungrily, pulling Merlin’s body against his, and Merlin’s felt on fire. His mouth worked against Arthur’s fervently as he allowed himself at last to take what he wanted. He felt his cock swell fast in his breeches, and pushed up against Arthur with his hips.

Arthur drew back, panting, his lips dark and swollen. “All I needed was you.”

Merlin still hadn’t found his thoughts, his hand stroked along Arthur’s jawline, past his cheek and into his hair. “I thought I’d lost you.” He was losing the ability to think rationally about his apprehensions. He was supposed to protect Arthur, which was complicated enough by itself. But he recognized now that he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t make Arthur lose himself, or deny himself. Arthur had to be whole. And so did he.

“I’m here now. But if you ever call me a clotpole again,” Arthur said.

“You insult me all the time!”

“It is my prerogative! Besides, didn’t you just say you missed me doing it?”

A challenging look swept across Merlin’s face and he couldn’t help grinning. Arthur was back. “Not half as much as you think.”

Arthur pushed his forehead against Merlin’s and attempted a glare, which wasn’t working with the size of his smile.

Merlin chuckled.

For several moments Arthur stared at Merlin, right into his eyes and conveyed all his longing, everything he felt. He leaned in. “God, Merlin, you are so—”

“There are guards… right outside,” Merlin piped up, using the last of his brain cells. His breath hitched from the heat coursing through his body.

“So? No one will enter.” Arthur’s nose almost touched his.

He could smell Arthur, the fresh sweat on his body. He felt Arthur’s breath mix with his own and his strong arms around his back. “They could hear…” Merlin’s hands came up to rest against Arthur’s shoulders, but whether to push him back or pull him closer was still uncertain. The last strains of rational thoughts in his mind struggled to make sense of the situation, but the violence of his heart was winning.

“And I know you have something for that.” Arthur’s deep voice and piercing gaze were full of unrestrained need.

It was unfair, Merlin thought. How easily Arthur was already commanding the use of his magic. How he was being manipulated so that Arthur could get what he wanted. Except he didn’t _mind_ at all. He _needed_ this, all of it. He pushed him away gently. “I’ll have to concentrate.” He looked at Arthur meaningfully. The small smile of assent on Arthur’s mouth made something inexplicable flutter though his belly.

He turned towards the door with his back to the prince and sighed deeply, once, twice. His whole mind was filled with Arthur. Everything was Arthur. At last he found his own core, his root, his magic. It stirred within, strong and raw. He pushed everything else away and lifted a hand. “ _Nic’þ ouriéþ evhánn_.”

“Is it done?”

Merlin waited until the soft wave of air swept past them. “Yes.”

He wasn’t certain if he had fully been able to say the whole word ‘yes’ before Arthur’s hands were on him, grabbing at his hip and his chest, pulling him back against the his body. Arthur’s mouth was on his neck and Merlin moaned in surprise. He was rewarded for his moan by a gasp from Arthur and the hand on his hip snaking down to cup his groin. It was too much, too fast. Merlin felt his knees buckle and he held on to Arthur’s arm to steady himself.

“Arthur,” he sighed. It was meant to be a way to stop him but he couldn’t find his voice to do so. Arthur’s lips were against his neck, kissing and gently biting. “Slow down.” He plucked Arthur’s groping hand away and turned around in his grasp.

Arthur frowned and nodded. He knew he was overstepping some yet undefined lines, that he was being greedy. The way his lips were set in an apologetic sigh and his brow furrowed told Merlin all of that. “I want this,” he confessed to Merlin, looking hopeful.

“I know. Me too… but there’s a right way to go about it.”

Arthur sighed at last and let go of Merlin entirely. The prince reached down and readjusted himself in his breeches in a way that made Merlin lick his lips absentmindedly. They looked at each other, Merlin with his moist lips parted and Arthur with his chest heaving.

“You’ll have to tell me what it is you want,” Merlin brought out at last.

“You,” Arthur filled in hurriedly.

“You can’t just take…”

“I want to see you, all of you. I didn’t even know where you _were_ yesterday Now…”

Any possibility at coherent thought left Merlin then. His tentative smile made his cheekbones stand out and his eyes crinkle. “And I want to kiss you.”

“Kiss me?” the prince asked, as if that was _all_.

“I’m not done kissing you yet,” Merlin said, “so why don’t we start there. You can undress me while I kiss you.” Blood rose to his cheeks as he said it.

Arthur’s hand reached up to cup Merlin’s face and Merlin leaned in to seek out his lips. They met somewhere in the middle and the heat flared up between them as they did so. Arthur’s free hand came up to stroke Merlin’s side, but he swatted it away.

Arthur grunted, and instead busied himself pushing Merlin’s brown suede jacket off his shoulders. It fell onto the tiled floor behind him somewhere. Rough hands continued to tug at the neckerchief until it joined the jacket on the floor. Arthur paused the kiss and his lips sought out Merlin’s neck.

Merlin pulled back in protest. “No cheating.”

“God, Merlin,” he cursed, “why do you have to be such a tease?”

  
**\-----47 Arthur-----**

His brain was so starved for common sense that it was almost painful. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice said he hadn’t eaten enough to start the day. His whole being was filled with Merlin, the way his lips moved every time he paused and said something inviting that would titillate his mind, the way his long eyebrows scrutinized him, punished him each time he did something wrong. Every time Merlin held him back he wanted _more_. Somehow he presumed Merlin knew that.

But before he could let it get under his skin, Merlin was kissing him again and he had no option but to fully comply, hungrily consuming Merlin’s mouth, his lips, his tongue. He was fixated on the small whimpers that escaped from Merlin’s mouth every so often. His eyes were closed and when Merlin tilted his head, he complied by deepening their hot kiss.

All the while Merlin wasn’t touching him, their bodies were almost within reach but Merlin kept to his end of the bargain. It exasperated him to consider how much control Merlin had over himself, and how little he possessed. His hands reached out for Merlin again, tugging at his blue shirt until he realized he still had to undo the belt that held it down.

He broke away and panted, his lungs ecstatic to finally breathe again. Merlin was in the same state as him, wild for more but holding back with every inch of his being. He regarded his servant who leaned his head back to get more air and marveled at how the light played over his features. He felt his cock throbbing, aching to be touched. But he would have to wait for that too.

His fingers were fumbling uselessly at the belt so he stole a glance away and looked at what he was supposed to be doing, solved the problem quickly, and without any ceremony got rid of Merlin’s shirt and belt altogether.

His eyes drank him in. Finally he could look at what he’d only been able to glimpse at so far. Pale skin covered lean muscles which showed off the ripple of tendons at his every move. A modest amount of hair covered his chest. He marveled at how slender his hips were compared to his broad, angular shoulders. Always hidden beneath his loose-fitting servant’s garbs.

With a pang Arthur noted that one of the bruises on his ribs wasn’t gone yet and a red stain on Merlin’s collarbone was taking its time healing too. Without thought he broke the rules again and kissed that spot lightly. He had known what King Galorian had done, what he had wanted to do to him. But Merlin’s hands were in his hair then and gently pulling him away.

“Arthur, no…” His eyes were filled with pain at the memory.

“I know,” he breathed and kissed him on his mouth—at least that was allowed—softly, gently. Their mouths made lazy wet noises each time they parted. He wanted for Merlin to forgive him for taking his mind there, he wanted to find words to ask him for it. But Merlin was already moving in, undoing Arthur’s belt expertly in seconds, without looking, and gripping at Arthur’s shirt.

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur muffled against his lips.

“You want me to stop?” Merlin huffed, his voice raw.

“No,” he gasped. Then, “Yes.” Merlin’s hands stilled. Arthur took a step back and frowned playfully at Merlin. “I’m not done with you either.”

Merlin bit back a moan and released Arthur’s shirt. He continue to eye Arthur hungrily with his head leaning forward, staring up at him through his lashes. The prince was eager to conclude that the same tactic which had put him into a frenzy was working on Merlin too.

He stepped forward and habitually Merlin moved a step back. And another. And a third until Merlin’s back was against a pillar that separated the dining and sleeping areas of his chambers. Arthur kneeled and got Merlin out of his boots and socks, which was easy as they were never tied. He reached up with both hands gliding over the fabric of his breeches, over his thighs, and squeezing all the way up to his narrow hips. He ignored Merlin’s cock, looking instead at his reaction.

Merlin was gripping the pillar behind him for support, panting heavily, and his eyes were dark with passion, following Arthur’s every move. “Arthur, _please_ ,” he begged, giving in at last and it was a sound so delicious it made Arthur’s cock twitch. He shuddered but didn’t remove his hands from Merlin’s hips yet.

“Please what?”

“Touch me… anything,” Merlin pleaded.

  
**\-----48 Merlin-----**

He looked down at the prince fumbling with the laces to his breeches and finally yanked down his last remaining item of clothing. As he stepped out of his breeches, he saw Arthur look at his cock. He whimpered. He needed more than a look there. Arthur came back onto his feet and Merlin knew then all rules were out. A hand closed around his cock and started stroking him _at last_.

“Uhnngh…” _More. Please_. Standing naked in front of Arthur, who was still mostly dressed, with six guards right outside the door oblivious to what was going on thrilled him. Lips covered his own again, stifling the next groan. Arthur could do what he wanted with him. He was out of patience.

The pressure that had built in his chest was squeezed out of him when Arthur’s body pushed him up against the cool stone of the pillar. The calloused hand pumped him, and he was supported when Arthur’s strong thigh pushed between his legs, which gave him the friction he needed. Merlin’s hands reached up into Arthur’s hair to keep kissing. To keep something steady so he wouldn’t lose himself.

Then Arthur _moaned._ He ground into Arthur’s hand, threw his head back and came, spilling his load against the prince’s white shirt in several long thrusts, holding himself up only with his arms around Arthur’s shoulders. His knees were weak and he panted loudly to recover, feeling his heart thud strongly against his ribs. Arthur’s lips were on his neck, kissing against his ear. Arthur’s need digging into his hip. Merlin pushed him back just slightly to look him in the eye. Arthur let go of his cock and took a step back as well to regard him.

“ _Now_ can I take off your shirt?” Merlin asked under his breath.

Arthur responded only by grabbing the sides of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head instantly. Merlin huffed at the unfairness of being able to touch him only afterwards. He’d wanted to do that earlier. Much earlier. Like, not long after being in his service.

Merlin looked at him, really _looked_ at his broad features, at the powerful outlines of muscles layering over his chest and shoulders, about the clear power that exuded from his midsection, and to the V-shaped pelvic muscle lines that disappeared into his breeches. His eyes met Arthur’s and without looking he deftly undid the prince’s laces in seconds. When they came off, Arthur stepped back out of them without taking his eyes off Merlin.

Merlin caressed a hand over Arthur’s chest, stroking, touching, and pushing him back. Arthur’s cock stood upright, and was hard, swollen, and perfect. It was a good size, thick and long, no doubt needing as much as he’d needed just a moment ago. Arthur’s lips were parted to help enough oxygen reach his lungs and his chest heaved and fell to aid its supply.

“Merlin…”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked the prince. He pushed him back further towards the bed.

The back of Arthur’s thighs touched the edge of the bed. He gave Merlin a passionate stare and a cheeky smile. Arthur’s combat training had given him a life-time of practice. Merlin felt himself instantly and expertly lifted, turned, and tossed onto the sheets. Whatever he might have liked to do or say was drowned out when Arthur climbed over him, covered him with his body, and resumed their kisses as if they had never stopped.

Their lips fought for dominance for some time and all the while Arthur’s naked, powerful body covered his deliciously, rocking against him in long lazy strides. When Merlin felt his lungs starved for air, he broke away. His hands roamed over Arthur’s back, exploring by touch, all the way down to cup his arse. The prince responded with a rough groan and bit down on Merlin’s neck. Merlin felt his cock stirring again. It was still sensitive. He stilled under Arthur who paused as well, and released his lips from Merlin’s neck where he was pretty certain to have left a mark. Their eyes locked.

“You haven’t told me yet.” Merlin stroked Arthur’s cheek.

Arthur stayed silent for some time, staring into Merlin’s eyes. Merlin’s expression was open, his swollen lips parted and his face flushed.

At length Arthur spoke, “I’m not sure what I want… God, Merlin, just to have you here with me…”

Merlin looked at him, trying to find what it was. He saw a moment’s insecurity there and he understood at last that Arthur didn’t have a long list of adventures like he did. He pressed a single reassuring kiss up to Arthur’s lips then and pushed himself up.

“Lie down,” he said softly.

Arthur looked at him curiously and did so, pulling the sheets down and laying down how he would normally lie in his bed. Merlin pulled the sheets further off the bed and covered Arthur’s body with his own. It was _heavenly_ to feel skin on skin, pressed together along the length of their bodies. Merlin didn’t know how he’d ever lived a day without it.

He shifted and put a hand on Arthur’s cock and got a stifled groan in return which came out as a growl. He started with long slow strokes, while at the same time his lips covered Arthur’s in a heated, sloppy, sexy kiss. Each time Arthur made another sound, he felt a flush of heat swell within him. He was hard again.

He moved his lips to continue kissing Arthur’s cheek, his strong jaw, his neck, and down to his collarbone. He briefly sucked on the prince’s neck in a mock copy of the mark he’d made on his own neck. His free hand rolled over strong pecs and stroked and pulled here and there. His long fingers tugged experimentally at one of his nipples and Arthur’s hips bucked in response. All the while Arthur was watching him with an expression that Merlin wanted to engrave in his mind forever, it was pure _lust_.

  
**\-----49 Arthur-----**

As Merlin’s hands and mouth went lower and lower, so the heat rose through his body. The moment his cock twitched Merlin let go of it. He gasped an exasperated sigh. Finally, when he’d started to build up, the touch was gone. But Merlin clearly had plans for him. He was now kissing and licking over his stomach. Once or twice Merlin’s chin touched the tip of his cock as his tongue followed the outline of his abdominal muscles. He was desperate enough to use _that_ for friction.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to relax. And then something soft and wet touched his cock and his eyes shot open again. Merlin’s lips. They teased around his tip, those gorgeous lips of his. He pulled away and instead proceeded to lick down his length all the way to his balls and Arthur arched his back in response. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. All the while those blue eyes were watching, regarding every expression the prince made to see what he liked.

Then the mouth was back on his cock, sucking in earnest, and Arthur hissed and moaned. It toyed with him, played with his resolve until, torturously, he paused again. Merlin tilted his head slightly and lowered his mouth down, further down, _all the way_ down, and Arthur gripped the sheets and groaned loudly, letting out all the air he didn’t know he’d been holding in. Merlin pulled back up, his cheeks hollow, and did the same slow descent once more.

Arthur felt how Merlin’s tongue pushed down together with that delicious mouth. How it slid all the way down until the tip of his cock pressed somewhere deep, dark, and wet at the back of his throat. He threw his head back and felt his body twitch, urging for more. It was not enough to climax. It was slow and languid. And _divine_.

Then the finger came and pressed between his cheeks. His eyes flew open and he jerked upright, looking at Merlin’s startled expression in the process.

“What—?” he asked Merlin. Arthur’s wet cock was released from Merlin’s lips and slapped against his belly. Merlin abruptly sat upright.

“You don’t like that?” Merlin asked cautiously.

“Don’t like what? What were you about to do?!” he asked, affronted.

Merlin’s face changed expressions three times consecutively from surprise, thoughtfulness, and then to determination. And he felt uncertain suddenly because he had no idea what that meant and Merlin _did._

“Something good. You trust me, don’t you? You can tell me to stop if you don’t like it,” Merlin said cautiously. “Trust me,” he added again.

Arthur laid back down on his elbows. He shivered momentarily and nodded. To his surprise Merlin moved away from him and off the bed. Arthur rested his head on the pillow and lowered his hand to stroke his still moist cock impatiently. Before he knew it Merlin was back and he swatted his hand away.

He felt edgy. He wanted to speak, he intended to say something. All his feelings and needs were threatening to spill out over the edge. Merlin asking him to trust him when it had been so severely challenged. Now that Merlin was here with him, he couldn’t imagine that time anymore. Everything was right here. He trusted him.

Merlin was seated between his legs and was looking at him with resolution. Merlin lifted Arthur’s cock with one hand and licked the L-shape of his thumb and index finger of the other. Then Merlin’s fingers formed a ring and stroked him down to his pubes in one firm, tight, slow stroke. Arthur pushed up against it in an uncontrolled fit of lust and watched. He groaned deeply. Merlin lowered his tongue and licked at the back of Arthur’s tip.

Merlin’s confident gaze with which he brought Arthur expertly back to where they left off, sent ripples of soaring pleasure straight to his hips. Merlin’s lips lowered over his cock, twisting and sucking his tip. This time Merlin’s hand and mouth worked in unison and stroked up and down his length.

“Ahh, yes,” he sighed. More of that. If Merlin kept that up… He threw his head back, closed his eyes, and followed that steady rhythm of his warm and wet mouth moving over him.

He felt Merlin stroke his balls with a very slick hand and his head swam. He smelled his muscle salve but pushed the thought from his mind. He reached out a hand to stroke through Merlin’s hair, encouraging him. More, he wanted more. He was still greedy for all of it. He needed it. Arthur started panting loudly.

The slick fingers stroked lower and back to the place which had startled him only minutes ago. This time Merlin was gentler, pushing until Arthur moved his legs somewhat to allow for better access. And then a very slippery finger pushed inside his arse and he momentarily didn’t know at all whether he liked that.

It was intimate. Perhaps too much. It was certainly something only done by someone he might trust. And he trusted Merlin. But it was strange. A second finger joined and he closed his eyes, wondering what would come of it. His body tensed. The fingers pushed in and pulled out, stroking very carefully. While the attention on his cock was becoming more intense than anything he’d ever experienced, the feeling of that part of him being touched took him out of the moment. He lifted a hand, intending to let him know...

And then he felt it as Merlin’s fingers curled and pressed inside of him, stroking and rubbing a spot deep inside. His eyes shut tightly and he gasped for air. It brought a sharp surge of drowning pleasure like liquid fire to the fast and wet sucking of his cock. He gripped his headboard with both his hands and uttered a guttural cry. His feet found grip against the sheets and he rolled his hips up and down over those fingers, in and out of Merlin’s mouth, pleasure building up fast. He gasped, stilled, and pulsed, coming inside Merlin’s throat with three, four loud moans, each joined by an uncontrolled jerk of his cock.

He kept his eyes closed, his body twitching several times as he came to terms with where he was, who he was, and what had just happened. The mouth, the fingers, the warmth all left him as he recovered. He heard some fabric move and being tossed aside, something being closed. He felt the warmth of another body beside him. When he dared to open his eyes Merlin had positioned himself next to him and was looking at him expectantly.

He fought back the urge in his brain that told him he needed to definitely sleep this off and grabbed Merlin’s arm and rolled over on top of him. Merlin was lying with his back on the sheets, his lips parted, and his eyes still searching Arthur’s for answers. He had no words for Merlin, not yet. He leaned down to kiss him once, twice, and a third time adding a little tongue.

Merlin closed his eyes and answered the kiss, arms drawing up around Arthur’s neck. They kissed languidly, their legs tangled together in the sheets pooled below. He tasted himself on Merlin’s tongue.

“What you did to me…” he sighed at last. Arthur took all of him in. He looked at Merlin from up close, trying to learn everything about his face, everything about his expressions. Everything that he’d been missing but was there, plain to see.

Merlin smiled at him tentatively.

“Was it magic?”

Merlin chuckled. “No. It is something I learned how to do.” Arthur felt the other’s laugh against his chest, vibrating through his body, through his whole being, and smiled back at him.

He saw how Merlin’s eyes fleeted away momentarily and Arthur assumed he was thinking of one of his past lovers. “Can I do that to you too?”

Merlin’s smile turned into something more saucy with one corner of his mouth lifting. “Yes,” he replied, his ears turning red. “That and a lot more.”

“Merlin, what you just did. I never—”

But Merlin silenced him with a kiss. Arthur made a noise of complaint so Merlin added, “I want to show you more things.”

Arthur sighed and nuzzled the other’s neck while Merlin’s arms tugged more firmly on his shoulders and dug into his hair. With that quiet understanding between them involving Arthur’s lack of experience they rested, lying entangled for some time.

“Arthur?”

“Mmm…”

“Would you like to have your breakfast served now?”

Arthur lifted his head. “Won’t the guards be wondering why you haven’t left yet?”

Merlin’s eyebrows raised up. “But my lord, I’m on duty to look after you.”

“In my bed?”

“I can get up if you like.” Merlin looked up with worry.

“Yes, do that. Then I can undress you again.”

Merlin laid his head back down and rolled his eyes, but a smile played on his lips. “Well, I’d like that but there is just one problem.”

Arthur looked down at him with an amused smile and piercing dark blue eyes. “And that is?”

“You’re squashing me.”

“Is that you calling me fat again?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sire.”

“Weren’t complaining just now, were you?”

“You weren’t squashing me just now!” he chuckled. “Besides, you don’t know me. Perhaps I like that.”

Arthur regarded him with a slight frown and a curious look in his eyes. It took Merlin mere seconds to push up and roll Arthur back to his back. “You are perfect,” he said with a serious look.

“I know I am,” the prince replied pompously. “Clearly not such a big problem after all. Either I’m not fat or you _are_ stronger than you look.”

Merlin grinned widely at him. “I’ll get you your breakfast then, fatty,” he said, and left the bed quickly.

“Oy!” Arthur yelled after him tossing a random pillow in his general direction. Merlin was just ducking for his clothes and it missed him entirely.

  
**\-----50 Merlin-----**

Every few moments while he dressed, Merlin reveled in what they had just done and a small thrill threatened to fire up again and again. He took a deep breath to steady himself. The room was warm with the fire burning bright. He might have unconsciously added to that only minutes ago.

Arthur was sitting in bed, clearly not ready to move yet. Merlin brought him the tray with breakfast to eat in bed and removed the top, revealing a steaming dish of shellfish in a thick almond milk sauce, joined by fried beans with garlic and onions.

Arthur’s stomach was growling. “Oh good, it’s still warm,” he said and started to eat. Then he paused and glanced at Merlin, who was genuinely trying to hide his smirk. Arthur snorted.

Merlin continued to clean the room, grabbing Arthur’s clothes off the floor again and adding his white shirt to the wash pile with a blush on his cheek. With a flash of gold he removed the stain and released a shuddering sigh. He busied his mind with work.

When Arthur was finished eating, he took the tray away and helped him get dressed. He started with his breeches, and helped him into his red shirt and handed him his necklace with the small red gem. It was almost as if things were normal. Except for a little more permission in touching Arthur’s warm skin, a lingering hand somewhere. Arthur put his forehead against Merlin’s again and sought answers in his eyes.

“Are you alright with this?” Arthur’s hands lingered at his sides, without pressure, without demand.

“I’m scared,” Merlin said.

“I know this is right. This is how it’s supposed to be. If our names are in some prophecy, we were meant to tackle anything that comes our way together.”

Merlin huffed, but smiled. He wasn’t meeting Arthur’s eyes, but also didn’t move away. It felt like everything was fitting together, and yet he couldn’t shake off his hesitations entirely. Arthur saw it and frowned.

“Merlin, from the very moment you told me our names were foretold, I was certain. I won’t dishonor our fine knights, but the way _you_ think, the way _you_ act, it moves me. It’s all so clear. But also different. It’s like—” He looked up and away, trying to search for the words, “Like…”

“Like we’re two sides of the same coin?”

“Yes, _exactly!_ Those were the words I was looking for.”

Merlin felt giddy and allowed himself to fully grin. He looked up directly at Arthur and saw in his eyes everything he had held back for the past weeks. That Arthur loved him. Instead of the nerves he expected, he felt filled with a warmth and security that only Arthur could offer him. He wouldn’t have to worry about Arthur revealing who he was to his father, or to anyone else, because Arthur would protect him with every last fibre of his being.

Arthur let him go then, with a confident smile, and walked over to his desk. Merlin’s legs were still wobbly from emotion. “Now, who on earth is the Lady of the Lake? If you can tell me, that is.”

Merlin blinked and cursed under his breath. “Er, you heard that too?”

“Yes, Merlin, everything.”

A sudden realization hit him. All the stability he had just felt broke away and a cold sweat plastered his shirt against his back. His heart sunk into his shoes. “Oh no.” He stared at Arthur with wide, round eyes.

“What is it?”

“Lady Vivian.” He paled. “She saw me do magic.”

  
**\-----51 Arthur-----**

“What?!” Arthur bellowed.

“I was trying to remove the enchantment from her, and…”

“She could expose you.”

Merlin swallowed hard. “Knowing her, she probably would. I didn’t know she would be conscious!”

“Then we need to find out what she knows. That means helping her, as soon as we can. We need to determine who did this to me, and to Lady Vivian. And figure out why.” This couldn’t be happening. Just when everything seemed to be perfect; he was released from the enchantment and Merlin was with him, and _agreed_ that they would see through whatever crossed their paths side by side, and now this. He walked up and down his room.

“I’m almost certain it was Trickler,” Merlin said resolutely. “King Alined is the mastermind behind it, he doesn’t want the peace negotiations to succeed.”

Arthur turned to him. He trusted Merlin’s judgment, but at the same time he was cautious to bring any notice regarding magic to his father unless he was entirely certain. He had to follow the right steps in order to gain control over the situation. “Do you have any proof?”

Merlin lowered his head. “No, nothing. I don’t even know which spell it was.”

Arthur put two hands to his face, rubbing, and trying to think more clearly. “Then what do we know?”

“Trickler probably had no idea there would be someone who could undo his enchantment. He will be entirely surprised to see you back to normal. You must watch for the signs.”

“How did he get to Lady Vivian?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin said miserably.

Arthur had no doubt Merlin was imagining the pyres already. Something tugged at Arthur’s insides, knowing it would impossible for him to stand and watch that. “Is there anyone who can release her?” he asked at last.

Merlin looked up in desperation. “She’s traveling far away from her lands. They’ve only brought their servants and two knights. If he is not among them, then I can hardly imagine what might befall her.”

“We need to try, Merlin.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said habitually. Then, with a soft voice he said, “I’m going to let the enchantment go.”

Arthur nodded at him and he felt a small breeze lick past his skin once more, indicating it was over. He watched as Merlin stared out in front of him, his eyes distant, scanning. He was no doubt aligning the information in his mind, weighing the options.

“Do you know what to do?” Arthur pried.

“Not yet, but I’ll figure something out… For as long as she remains enchanted, she won’t speak about me, in any case.” He looked down.

“One day,” Arthur said. Merlin broke out of his chain of thought and turned his head. “One day, I promise you, I will change things. You won’t have to hide forever.”

Merlin gaped at him for several seconds, his eyebrows lifted, before his expression softened to something loving. It flooded Arthur with warmth. Merlin nodded at him, a small smile playing around his lips. Arthur saw how much Merlin longed for that.

“We’re not there yet, Arthur. For now, you will have to stay here.”

“No way, I’m not staying locked in like last time.”

“You can’t be seen to be yourself again.” Merlin walked over to the bed and started to straighten out the sheets and pull the covers over the bed.

Arthur put his hands on his hips. “And why is that?”

“They have a sorcerer, Arthur. What if they try something else next? I’m supposed to help Gaius in assisting Lady Vivian today. I wasn’t scheduled to serve at the council meetings either.”

“They wouldn’t do anything in public. And I am _very_ public. Just keep your eyes peeled, Merlin.”

Merlin was looking at him with extreme worry. He didn’t like it one bit, Arthur knew. He also knew it wasn’t within him to back down from this. “If King Olaf is setting aside his war efforts to make peace with Camelot and our neighbors, then I owe it to him as well to help his daughter.”

There was a flash of something in Merlin’s eyes as he placed the decorative pillows back where they belonged. “You couldn’t stop saying her name,” he reflected. “Do you remember kissing her?”

“I honestly wish I didn’t,” he sighed.

“Perhaps she’s thinking the same,” Merlin smirked. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re not entirely popular with her either.”

“Considering her judgment I take it as a compliment,” he retorted. He eyed Merlin as he was making the bed without inhibition.

Merlin grinned and bit his lip. “You’ve been a right turnip-head to Gwen as well, you know that?” Once the bed looked perfect, and there was not a single crease, Merlin walked over to the dining table to gather the remaining goblets onto the tray.

“How’s that exactly? I did what you asked of me,” Arthur grumbled.

“All I’m saying is you’d better apologize to her for being insensitive.” Merlin shrugged.

“I’m not apologizing for something I don’t understand!”

“Perhaps that’s why you never apologize,” Merlin offered with a lopsided grin.

“You better watch it, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur scoffed, without any heat.

Merlin shot him a defiant glance, his eyes twinkling with humor. It made Arthur want to reach out to Merlin, touch him in some way, reaffirm that they were alright together, alright with this. Outside Arthur’s door everything was potentially turning upside down, but here in this room, together, they had created something perfect.

And that’s why he had to face whatever threat was upon him, upon both of them. Whatever it took, he would take it in stride. “I will have to tell my father that someone enchanted me.”

“No! Arthur!”

“Hear me out, Merlin. Lady Vivian’s reaction is as uncharacteristic as mine was. You saw how her father and her maid reacted. My old self, once freed, would immediately make that conclusion and try to figure who—”

There was a knock on the door, and Lady Morgana called out his name. Merlin knew that she would relieve him. Arthur nodded at Merlin, who unlocked the door. Morgana walked in wearing her red dress with golden patterns and richly decorated sleeves. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, hanging in large curls. “Arthur?” she called out tentatively.

Merlin gave Arthur one more firm look and picked up the tray with the used goblets. “Good morning, Lady Morgana,” he said. “Have you seen Lady Vivian this morning?”

Morgana hovered in the door opening.

“Don’t worry, Morgana. I’m feeling quite alright. I’m not going to run anywhere, unless you start making comments on my behavior yesterday. Then I might actually run away.” He grinned confidently at her.

“What happened, Arthur?” Lady Morgana said, still ignoring Merlin’s question and not letting him out the door.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he lied, “but I feel fine and I should certainly like to ask you to update me on the latest news from the council. And if that means avoiding Lady Vivian, that is entirely fine by me.”

Morgana lifted an eyebrow at him and slowly started to smile. She let go of the door to let Merlin pass. “You should see to her, Merlin. I wasn’t allowed inside, but Gwen told me that Eda said she was behaving worse.”

Merlin nodded to her and left the room. Once he was out of his sight, Arthur let out a sigh and recollected himself. “So, you’re the replacement nanny, are you? Never quite pictured you as a carer, Morgana.”

She swept over to the dining table and took one of the chairs close to the fire, seating herself gracefully. “Well, I’m glad I came on time. I couldn’t let you bully Merlin for a whole day, he’d never survive it.” She glanced at the boar head trophy oddly.

Arthur felt like a huge, useless lump for a second, trying to act normal with her. “If I stop now, he’ll start thinking he’s doing something right. Can’t have that!” He hoped that she wouldn’t instantly sense anything that had happened in the room, or any change in behavior.

Her soft chuckle sorted him out and he felt calm again, taking a seat beside her. “Jokes aside. I am not certain what has happened with Lady Vivian. I’m not even certain where my mind was at yesterday.”

She looked down for a few moments, frowning. “Well there’s only one explanation, really, isn’t there?”

“What’s that then?” Arthur said, leaning over.

Morgana hesitated, then huffed and smiled. “Well, it has to be magic. Someone is trying to force a match.”

Arthur stared at her, contemplating what to say. “You know, that might be the first thing that has made sense to me in a while.”

Morgana straightened. “Oh, come off it, Arthur. You were thinking exactly that already.”

He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Well, the magic bit’s new. I thought that it might have been some bad food perhaps.”

She rolled her eyes at him and leaned forward. “Arthur,” she said, placing a hand over his, “if someone is doing this, they have very thoroughly brought dishonor on both you and on Lady Vivian. Who knows what might have happened if no one had broken the two of you apart.”

He stared into her light green eyes. She was being more genuine with him than usual. “What’s on your mind, Morgana?”

She pulled her hand back and pursed her lips, satisfied that he asked her. “Think, Arthur, who would benefit from this? Certainly not you, or Vivian. And I’m certain that neither Uther nor Olaf were pleased. So, they can be ruled out.”

“You know who it is, don’t you?” he asked eagerly.

“I have an idea. But more importantly, who will benefit when this comes to light?”

Arthur blinked at her. And blinked again. “I don’t quite follow.”

She shook her head. “No one would benefit, Arthur. Everything out of the ordinary is being kept hushed away, that’s why you were locked into your room. We’ve discovered three of Godwyn’s servants snooping around near the treasury, trying to force the lock. We’ve heard gossip throughout the kitchens that Alined’s wife died while pregnant and he never quite recovered, and we know that Rodor has lost vast amounts of lands to the Saxons, but won’t update his maps truthfully on account of his plans to win them back. No one is being quite honest here.”

Arthur shifted in his seat. “This is nothing entirely new though. We have to make the best of it. This isn’t about whether we like each other but to spare the pressures of war, and the lives of our people if we can, and defend ourselves against… against the invading forces.”

Morgana nodded at him briefly. “All true, dear Arthur, but you’ve missed the point. The point is to not do anything until strictly necessary about what’s happened.”

“That’s why I need to get back into the council meetings,” he said resolutely.

She raised her eyebrows. “Actually, it would be far better if you direct attention elsewhere entirely. Have a competition in the throne room with the new knights. They have been asking after you whenever they can. Get caught doing so, and that will ensure everyone you are back to normal and doing something which in itself can create a different sort of gossip.”

“What do you mean?”

“The kings are informed day and night of what happens in the castle. Once they are appeased you should be invited back into the council. Wait for that.”

“You know, Morgana, you’ve never actually told me what to do.”

“Oh, sure I did.” She stood up. “You just never listen to me. I hardly expect you to start now. But you will, if you take a moment to consider your place in this.”

Morgana left the room, leaving him behind to think.

  
**\-----52 Merlin-----**

Merlin knocked on Lady Vivian’s door. He was greeted by a very sleepy looking Eda at the door. Her hair was somewhat tangled and there were bags under her friendly eyes. Her dress was somewhat shifted, revealing slightly more of her bosom than usual. He struggled not to notice.

“Oh, Merlin! Do you come with news?” she asked.

“No, I don’t have news yet. May I come in to examine her?”

Eda curled some of her hair behind her ear, and stepped aside to let Merlin into the room. “It’s become worse. We don’t know what to do.”

When Merlin stepped in and closed the door behind him, he saw Gudrun sitting in a chair, regarding Lady Vivian prancing about as if she was dancing. Her hair was unkempt and her feet were bare, and it seemed not to bother her at all. She was gently humming a tune and no doubt imagining Arthur in her arms, as she swirled around. Gudrun looked genuinely upset.

“Does she eat and drink?” Merlin asked Eda, who nodded. “And, begging your pardon, is he allowed in here?”

Gudrun sat up straighter. “I watched her all night, as King Olaf asked, and so that Eda could sleep a bit. Which she really should have.”

Merlin wondered about that. “Has anything changed since yesterday?”

“No,” Gudrun sighed.

“Well, yes,” Eda said and stood beside Merlin. She gently touched his arm and he turned to her. “Actually,” she began, her eyes flitted between Vivian and Merlin uncertainly, “she has not had her affliction since yesterday morning. That is new. Which I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t watched her all night.” She shot Gudrun a meaningful glance. “It didn’t occur even once.”

“That is good news!”

Eda pulled her long hair back behind her shoulders and stepped aside as Lady Vivian walked past her. “There’s something very strange going on, Merlin.”

“Where is, oh, Arthur, love?”

“Right.” Gudrun stood up. “I’ve stayed and now I will join Arni, he must be worried. There’s nothing sensible coming out of her anyway. Not like it should be.”

When Gudrun left and closed the door behind him, Lady Vivian was still happily picking things up and putting them down somewhere else, regarding them as if Arthur would love to see it there, instead of the place it stood before.

“Eda, sit please. You look exhausted,” Merlin said at once. Eda sat down on the edge of the bed. “I did not want to say it before, because of—well, because it’s not something public, but I think whatever Arthur had, it’s gone.”

“You mean he recovered?”

He blinked at her and nodded. “Yes, yes that’s it. I think. I’m still not entirely certain. Has she said or done anything out of the ordinary?”

Eda frowned. “Everything is out of the ordinary here, Merlin. I should rather expect your castle to be haunted, instead of our Vivian.”

“I mean,” he said as he looked at Vivian, trying to hide his anxiety, “has she said anything?”

“She talks nonsense, every other word is ‘Arthur this,’ ‘Arthur that.’”

Merlin bit his lip and steeled himself before saying, “I’m sorry to ask, but it may be relevant… did Lady Vivian have a lover. I mean, before any of this started?”

Eda stared at him and her expression turned closed. “I don’t think that is an appropriate question.”

“I mean no offense,” Merlin excused himself. “Surely you know this.”

“There was no lover, and I do resent you asking. She is pure and follows the teachings of the gods. She would never take a lover!”

Lady Vivian slowly turned her head towards him. He felt a chill down his spine from the odd glazed look in her eyes. Her hand came up to reach out for him.

“Are you certain?” he asked again, trying to back up and be out of Vivian’s reach.

“No, she—my lady!” Eda turned around and put her hand on Vivian’s shoulder, soothing her. “Oh lord, she’s shivering.”

“Where is… Arthur?” Vivian’s voice was a soft croak. She sank into the large old chair where Gudrun had been seated.

“Your hearth has grown cold over night. Do you have any more wood?” Merlin observed.

“I’ll fetch some more now!” Eda jumped up off the bed and headed towards the door. “I won’t be a minute.”

Merlin didn’t waste a second, and he went to kneel beside her chair. “Lady Vivian, I know you can hear me. I know you are aware of everything around you. I’m doing everything I can to get you out of this.” He picked up her hand and tried to warm her freezing fingers. “The only way to get you out of this is the one you truly love. Can you tell me—do you have any way to tell me who that might be?”

She looked up at him and gave him an odd, seemingly forced smile. “Arthur, I love Arthur.”

He shook his head. “Please, Vivian. I’m already risking everything. I could risk some more, but I need some help from you. I need to bring the person you truly love to you. Is it Gudrun? Or Arni perhaps? Can you tell me anything, a name?”

She frowned and pulled her hand back, rubbing both her eyes with her palms. Her whole body shuddered and she looked at the door. “Oh, oh love, oh love… I need my Arthur.” The words struggled to come out of her throat.

He hung his head and pushed himself up. “I won’t give up, Lady Vivian.” He heard footsteps and Eda returned with a large basket full of wood.

“Is she speaking again?” Eda asked, putting down the basket and set to work creating a fire, getting down on her knees in front of the hearth, with two pieces of flint.

“I think she is, a little.” He minutely nudged the fire along once the sparks caught. “I will tell Gaius. And please, do speak to her. I think she can hear you. Be kind, she needs it right now.”

He left to return to his work.

  
**\-----53 Arthur-----**

To Holden’s eternal delight, Arthur requested that day’s lunch to be arranged in the throne room. He sent several squires and knights to gather gear and equipment from the royal armory and sent a special request out to Olaf’s knights to train with them.

All the knights of Camelot who resided within the citadel got the notice and within an hour, there was much ado in the throne room with people practising swords and spears and clashing shields or armor. Arthur paid special attention to the lower ranked knights, to ease their discomfort at their recent dismissals. Several knights wanted to hear more about Arthur’s wedding plans but he urged them to cast those ideas aside for now and focus on exercise.

Arthur took extra time to speak at length with Arni and later with Gudrun, intent on finding out more. Arni seemed to be great at throwing spears and Arthur ordered the entire hall aside for him to show it. The thrones were moved to the side. A single shield against the back wall served as a target and Arni’s spear hit it, close to its heart. It was a great feat and much ale was drunk in celebration.

“The spear I use back home is twice as long and five times heavier,” Arni boasted.

“Yeah,” Gudrun chuckled, “and your mother rides bears! Tell us another!”

Sir Kay clapped Gudrun on the back. “That would be pretty spectacular. I think you’ve seen pretty large bears, judging by the hides you’ve brought.”

“White ones. Larger than two men, sure,” Gudrun said. “Though Arni would say five men, but then he can’t count.” They all laughed.

“So you’ve sailed across the seas,” Arthur said. “I hear your ships are finer than those of the Normans and the Saxons. Your craftsmen must be very skilled.”

“Arthur, you’re still young so you might not know,” Gudrun said, “but we make the best of everything! Ships, weapons, women!” Arni broke out into giggles.

“None so fine as Lady Vivian, I’m sure,” Arthur said and took a sip from his drink, regarding both men. Arni shook himself visibly and mumbled an agreement. Gudrun looked away entirely. “I meant no offense,” he quickly added.

“And none to be had,” Gudrun recovered. “It’s just unusual for anyone to speak so openly. It’s unusual for anyone to ask for her hand even.”

To Arthur’s dismay, neither of the men responded in any way that might tell him that they might be secretly interested in Vivian. “Well it’s bound to happen some day, hopefully on a day that King Olaf is in a good mood.” Arthur’s face contorted into a wince, which made the others laugh.

Arni grinned wide and Arthur noticed that he was missing some teeth one one side of his mouth. He pointed. “Did this happen in battle, or did your mother’s bear take a disliking to you?” They joked together, and Sir Kay proved to know a thing or two about bear hunting. It was all good and well until the doors swung open and the five kings waltzed in with Lady Morgana and Geoffrey in tow.

Everyone stopped mid-swing, mid-defense and, if they could, mid fall. The kings spread into the room as if they were an army poised for battle. The knights of Camelot visibly wilted under their gaze. One young knight dropped one of King Rodor’s gifted metal shields, which he had picked for protection, and it clanged loudly against the stone tiles, clanging round and round and round in a mockery of the knight’s terror.

“What in God’s name—” Uther looked sideways at Olaf’s grunt, he wasn’t happy with this profanity.

“Father,” Arthur called out. He moved towards the kings confidently. “Surely we were not making too much noise?”

“What is the meaning of this, Arthur? You are supposed to be in your chambers.”

He noticed that especially Olaf was eyeing him warily, as were Rodor and Alined. Morgana’s smile was small but he recognized it as amusement. He put his hands on his sides and puffed out his chest slightly. “I’m having fun with the knights, we’re training and exchanging stories of battles. If I am harming the peace talks in some way, then let me know. I wouldn’t want to offend anyone, my lords.”

All eyes were on Arthur, and then shifted towards the kings. Uther balled his hand into a fist and relaxed it again. “What about your plans, your affections?”

“I don’t know what came over me father. I have quite abandoned those plans, no offense to your good daughter, King Olaf. But I have a far larger respect for what you are aiming to achieve.” A gasp went through the hall at Arthur’s announcement. Olaf’s shoulders relaxed markedly and Rodor looked much the same as before. There was a full circle of white around Alined’s eyes, which was proof enough to Arthur that he was definitely involved.

“Father, can the men enjoy their exercise? It is excellent training and we can never let our guards down,” Arthur proposed, lowering his head slightly towards Uther.

“I see no harm in this,” Uther said, lifting a hand so that the men could continue. Leon took the signal and turned back to the knight with two-handed swords and continued the lesson he was offering. Arthur smiled brightly at his father.

“You will join us in the council meetings, where you ought to be,” Uther said. Geoffrey nodded gravely at the statement, Olaf pushed his chin forward, and Alined turned to storm out the hall. Morgana looked entirely well pleased until Godwyn offered his arm to her and led her out of the hall. Everything she had told him had happened exactly as she said it would. He reminded himself never to underestimate her again.

“I must leave you here,” Arthur said to Arni and Gudrun. “But I am certain we can pick up your excellent stories at tonight’s feast.”

“So, you are not to wed after all?” Arni prompted and Gudrun clocked him on the head for it.

“I shall leave that conquest to another, perhaps you have someone in mind?” They both shrugged and held their lips tightly together. _Damn_ , he wasn’t getting anything helpful from either of them.

“Well, I shall pick up my spear practice tomorrow, and I will expect you to wield one of our greatswords and we shall match our skills.” Arthur bowed at them, and with a quick nod to Leon and Kay he left the room, following the kings.

  
**\-----54 Merlin-----**

Merlin was speeding down the corridors on his way to Gaius, to tell him what he knew about Lady Vivian, and deciding what he certainly _wouldn’t_ divulge, when he suddenly saw all the five kings move towards him in the hallway. Lady Morgana walked with them and some way behind her…

Arthur.

With his head on his shoulders, and with Olaf not looking murderous. Merlin’s heart did a small somersault and he only hoped that Arthur had not yet mentioned magic to Uther.

When he and Arthur locked eyes, he felt a spark of heat through him that had no equal. It filled him with warmth instantly, making his toes and his finger tingle at the impact. Arthur showed no outward reaction except the smallest of smiles, which made his heart beat furiously against his breastbone. It was over only a moment later but he was thoroughly impacted.

Arthur put a hand on Alined’s shoulder to allow him into the council chambers first. As Alined passed him, Arthur turned his head meaningfully to Merlin, and disappeared into the room. It told Merlin all he needed to know.

Morgana caught his eye and excused herself, Merlin was closer to them now and heard her say something about ‘an extra plate for lunch.’ She extracted herself from King Godwyns’ arm and walked towards Merlin, while the kings got themselves seated.

When she was close, she quickly dragged Merlin into a side corridor. Her look was urgent. “Home, King Olaf wants to go home. That’s what I saw.”

Merlin shook his head in confusion. “Home? Do you think that’s where Vivian needs to go to get help?”

“Not Vivian, I did not dream about her.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “Does she die?”

“I don’t think so. My dreams usually,” she paused as someone walked by carrying a stack of plates, “they usually emphasize death. But I can’t tell you for certain. I have to go now. And make sure Arthur’s lunch is brought to the council chambers today.”

She turned to leave but Merlin touched her wrist. He gulped but she stopped. “I have one more request. We weren’t allowed to use the library to seek help for Lady Vivian. Please, we need to access other books, perhaps there will be something in there to help her.” He needed to ask this of Morgana, who had already done so much for him. Perhaps there would be a way to undo the enchantment, or perhaps he would find a way to cure her affliction. Most certainly, he needed to get into the library so that his efforts would not be doubted.

“I can’t promise anything,” she said and pulled her wrist back, “but I will try.” She left in a flurry of long skirts and when she had disappeared around the corner Merlin could breathe again. She had done it, she had actually done it. It wasn’t useful, or targeted, but at least she had received information about something related to Vivian. He felt proud of her, though he stifled it away with the humility of knowing what it cost her to do it.

And Lady Vivian probably would not die. That was a relief. Now he just needed to hear from Arthur what he had learned. He hoped they could speak before the feast. Perhaps find a moment alone.

He caught George’s attention in the corridors and told him about Arthur’s meal, and that he personally needed to help Gaius. George, ever polite, agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Merlin noticed, in the middle of George’s agreement that several of Godwyn’s servants were exiting a store room they were not supposed to be in. He dismissed it, as they didn’t look particularly guilty, and continued on his way.

His mind wandered to all the things he would do to Arthur if they had a moment alone, and if they had no immediately pressing matters. He bit his lip as he continued his route to Gaius’ workshop. By the time he arrived he felt thoroughly flustered and, well, mostly presentable. At last, he was no longer feeling guilty about his fantasies. Slowly, he could let go of _that_ at least.

He pushed into the workshop and found Gaius weighing various types of powders on a scale, to a single weight which, dubiously, had a chip out of its side.

“Ah, Merlin, hand me that container, will you? And sweep the floor, please, I think I might have spilled something.”

Merlin handed him the glass jar Gaius was pointing at and regarded the mountain of blue powder next to the work bench. “That’s quite some spilling,” he said.

“Yes, and it was very expensive. Don’t make me feel worse, Merlin.”

Merlin smirked and concentrated. The powder collected itself in a swirl and neatly dropped into an empty wooden bowl on the table.

“Merlin! Someone could have walked in! Besides, I can’t use it if it’s not entirely pure. The floor has been dusty for a while.”

“There was no one on the stairs, Gaius. I would hear them.” He sat down on the bench opposite his master and brushed some suspicious purple powder off a piece of bread before eating it. “Besides,” he said with a full mouth, “there is no dust in this, trust me.” He held up the bowl towards Gaius.

“What has you in such a good mood then?”

Merlin shrugged. “Oh, nothing.”

 _Arthur is himself again, thanks to me. I kissed him, he was naked for me, and I could touch him how I liked. I made him come, and he wants more. One day he will change the world, and it’s because he believes in me. I won’t have to hide anymore, lie anymore. And he_ loves _me._

“Except that the enchantment didn’t hold onto Arthur. He is freed from it,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Indeed,” Gaius said. “And how exactly did this come to pass?” His master regarded him with the afeared eyebrow.

“I’m not sure,” he said, finishing the bread, “but he’s been invited back into the council meetings. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“Are you entirely sure he is fully himself, and not being controlled by someone?” Gaius urged. He was already turning around to gather another book.

“Yes, he is back to his insulting, pompous self, Gaius.”

“You shouldn’t speak of him like that,” he chided.

“It’s how I know he is himself,” he said with a soft voice. “The same should hopefully work for Lady Vivian. Although I still have no idea how to help her. With either of her problems.” He looked down and fiddled with the hem of his jacket sleeve.

“Have you found out anything else?” Gaius probed.

“It’s certainly King Alined, hand in hand with Trickler. Arthur confirmed it—”

“I thought that you were not going to involve Arthur or his father, Merlin. Why do you insist on making this difficult for yourself?”

Merlin stood up from the table. “He was already involved, Gaius. From the moment the spell left him, he understood that something had happened to him. Whether I like it or not, he’s in on this.”

“Despite his moderation towards magic, this will unleash an investigation, you know it will.”

“And maybe it should!” Merlin moved back and forth past the table.

“And why should it?” Gaius asked loudly.

“To help Lady Vivian!”

Gaius was momentarily taken aback. “And who is to say what Trickler will do now that Arthur is back to normal?”

Merlin shook his head, still walking back and forth. “Then he will expose himself doing so.”

“You had better find out what’s on his mind, Merlin.”

  
**\-----55 Arthur-----**

Arthur put his goblet of water down amidst the piles of papers, burned-leather sheets of drawn and corrected maps, assorted ink jars and feather pens, charcoal, and even a couple of rings King Godwyn had taken off in order to work better. Arthur was not drinking ale or wine today, he needed to keep his head on his shoulders.

“Your demands are noted and will be taken into consideration in due course. In the meantime, is there anyone else who has any other comments about the northern territories?” Uther offered, piling up a stack of papers to hand to Holden for copying in detail.

Holden returned to his seat besides King Alined, who sat next to King Olaf and Lady Morgana. Opposite Morgana sat King Rodor, King Godwyn, Arthur, and finally Geoffrey. George, Kolby, and Birger were serving them food and drinks.

“Today’s council will extend into the opening of the feast. Holden, have the throne room cleared, the banquet hall prepared, and see to it that the kitchens serve us our entrée here.” Holden stood up, bowed, and left instantly.

“What about the sightings of the painted men?” Rodor asked, picking up his mug. “We speak of peace, but there is war on every doorstep. You have not yet asked us to spare men for your wars up North.”

Uther turned to Rodor with a shrewd look. He knew that the closest armies which might help Camelot were situated in Olaf’s kingdom to the east, and Morgana had informed Arthur that he had avoided any personal or military contact with Olaf for the past several days. And it was all because of him.

When his father didn’t answer, Arthur spoke up, “The painted men have lost territories in the North and we destroyed several of their fortifications. We have an ally in Prince Darren at Brooksten—”

“Prince Darren is but a boy,” Rodor cut him off. “And there has been a drought this autumn in the highlands so wild stock is scarce. You can be certain to see wild men in your territory, Uther.”

Uther shifted in his seat and leaned two elbows on the old wooden table. “We have taken over a fortification near the Perilous Lands, they will not be able to cross it easily. If they do they will be worn, broken, and severely thinned out. I am more concerned about Mercian armies on the move.”

“The word is, though I cannot confirm it, that Bayard has sent a war aid to Essetir. Their aim is to defend against the Angles. They don’t seem to be shy about using sorcery either.”

Arthur sat up straight. “The Angles are waging war again?”

King Godwyn smiled. “Their lands are very fertile, and they have had many fine yields. Our traders bring goods from their lands with impressive art, which says a lot about the time they have to make them. I believe if they have grown populous then that means they need more land.” He played with his goblet of wine between his fingers. “Perhaps Bayard and Cenred will aid us in their culling.”

Olaf spoke up, “They may bury their dead proper, but they are still pagans! Those Angles have taken up the rites of the Northern Saxons as well as the Romans, how can they fear all those gods alike?”

“They may be, but they are no immediate threat to us,” Uther said coolly.

The hair in Olaf’s beard seemed to bristle at Uther’s dismissal. “I notice you do not pray either, Uther, and you use God’s name in vain. That goes for the rest of you as well.”

Godwyn leaned back and put his hands over his belly. “Olaf, you are a good king to your men, and zealous. But do not assume because you do not see me pray that I do not. I take great pains to rid all the other religions from my lands. But when the foreign armies reach my southern shores, my people will pray to whoever they like to find strength.”

Arthur shook his head. “Belief should be taught, it should benefit the people from whichever source. And not just to find strength in battle but also to find peace from within.”

“And yet your men speak of curses, don’t think I have not heard it in the hallways! They say my daughter is destined to die.”

Kind Alined spoke up, “Commoners will say all sorts of things, I’ve heard them speak that Lady Vivian bewitched Uther’s son for her own personal gain.”

Olaf stood up and Birger moved to stand beside him instantly. “How dare you—”

King Alined continued, “At this moment we don’t even know how she is, since you will not speak of her. Perhaps she is disappointed her plan failed?”

Arthur clenched his jaw and slowly stood up as well. All eyes locked on him and his father was positively glaring. “In the brief time that I was able to get to know her,” he said, purposefully avoided Olaf, “I am positive that Lady Vivian is a pure and devout young woman. She would never have strategized anything to bring dishonor. In fact, I hear she is unwell. Let us remain respectful as a reflection of our characters.”

For several seconds no one spoke. Holden returned that moment and took his seat, the creak of his chair echoed through the chambers. Alined was visibly put out by his failure to fuel the fire. King Olaf seemed mildly appeased and sat down again. He patted down his beard and did not look up from the table. Arthur took his seat as well and breathed in relief.

Morgana leaned forward and changed the topic, “King Rodor, how do you come by this information? What sorcery is Cenred using against the Angles?”

“I cannot reveal my sources, Lady Morgana, besides I do not yet know if all the information is true. Cenred has not held those lands for very long, so he is seeking aid to fortify himself. What I have heard is that he has a Court Sorcerer.”

“Nonsense,” Uther declared immediately.

Rodor shrugged. “Believe what you will, Uther. He shares more borders with you than with me. I mean, I might get involved, but I don’t really see the incentive.”

“You would stand against Cenred with me,” Uther asked, rubbing his chin.

“There is something I want in return, for my war efforts. You won’t have to pay me a dime. I suppose that suits you.”

Uther let out a sigh. “I am not giving you Gedref, Rodor. It has been in Camelot for—”

“It has been a family estate belonging to my ancestors for longer than that. You may have conquered your lands, Uther, but I inherited them. I have my pride. And, as you know, I am waging three wars already to the South and to the East. If you will not give me the estate of Gedref and clear out of the stronghold then you will see the Saxons in your lands before long, despite my best efforts.”

“You would intend to let them pass, you mean?” Uther pursed his lips sourly.

“I would see them dead before they cross borders in my lands twice. What I am saying is that they are formidable, if not in skill, then in numbers. They have no art to their warfare, only intent. I need that outpost.”

“I shall consider it,” Uther said eventually.

“Uther, we are here now. Speak plainly.”

“Why haven’t you just taken it back?” Alined offered with a sly smile.

Rodor answered his smile with one more devious than Alined’s. “Because, my good friend, I am not interested at all in any of Camelot’s lands. The lowlands are fine to look at, but I have my seat and working together is more important.”

Arthur lifted his glass to Rodor and drank.

Uther regarded Arthur and straightened. “The estate’s borders pass along the mountains. It would take time to coordinate.” He paused and everyone was quiet. “We will begin the move next spring.”

When Rodor had finished shaking Uther’s arm on this cleared matter, Arthur saw the way Uther smiled and he knew that his father had no intention to comply with the agreement he’d just made. He was far too calm for it, besides he had never willingly given up land. It wasn’t in his nature.

“There is another matter I would like to discuss very briefly,” Morgana said at last, turning to Geoffrey. “Good sir, we have been courteous today, and I have attended Lady Vivian before she became unwell. I believe there was a request to access the library, proposed by our Court Physician. How fares this request?”

Geoffrey stumbled momentarily and put his feather pen down. All the kings looked in his direction. “This request was denied,” he sputtered.

Morgana put on a smile and slightly tilted her head. “I’m not certain I understand. We are not allowed to find the solution to the best interest of our royal guests?”

Uther cleared his throat. “The library is closed out of precaution. No one is to enter.”

Godwyn lifted his hands and offered a pleasant smile. “It would certainly be worth it for Lady Vivian.”

Morgana looked at Uther with a pleading look. “Please, she is my friend.” Uther looked at her and Arthur noticed that it did not take long at all for him to cave in.

“Tomorrow then,” Uther said.

“Tonight,” Olaf insisted. “It won’t be much of a feast, if my mind is uneasy.”

“Tonight,” Uther conceded.

Arthur grinned inwardly and leaned over to Geoffrey. “I suppose the invitation includes Merlin, because Gaius’ eyes are old and he will need help in order to swiftly retrieve what he needs in the poor light.”

Geoffrey did not look happy at all, picked up his feather pen once more and carefully wrote down Gaius’ name, followed by Merlin’s, and his personal signature. “I will assume that the guards will remain near the library’s door. I will not return to find that any mess has been made,” he stated, and eyed Arthur in a particular manner.

“Why are you telling me?” Arthur asked innocently.

“Well, he attends the library regularly but he seems to have no appreciation at all for the knowledge that is in the books! I would rather not see him go in at all,” the old man replied, but offered Arthur the permission form anyway to hand to the guards at the library.

Arthur nodded gravely, but he mused about Merlin. His mind wandered. It came as no surprise to him, not anymore, that Merlin frequented the library. And it was even better that Geoffrey considered him an uninterested dimwit. It was how he hid in public.

“What is next on today’s list?” Uther asked Holden.

“Trade laws, forbidden trade goods, exchange of goods, and punishment.”

“One more thing, before we turn to the topics at hand,” King Rodor remarked perkly.

“Yes?” Uther snapped.

“As I introduced to you before, my special guest will be arriving tomorrow. This will be of particular interest to you, Uther. I will need to find him a place to sleep.”

“Holden? You had a plan for this,” Uther said.

The talks were interrupted then by entrées arriving, brought to them by George and Birger. Kolby was nowhere to be seen, Arthur noted. The kings dove into a discussion about forbidden trade goods, particularly magical items, and punishments involved. Arthur stayed mostly quiet and listened, as did Morgana. She was bearing the talks as well as he did.

  
**\-----56 Merlin-----**

Merlin looked around for Trickler in order to hopefully discover what he was up to. When he passed through the kitchens, he heard that evening’s feast was back on. Everyone was in a state of panic. Merlin asked for some left-over scraps, and heard from Audrey that Alined apparently had a special wish for salted plums, and Trickler had been sent to the stores to find them.

As Merlin left the kitchens, he overheard a servant from Rodor’s household and Godwyn’s bicker over the latter being discovered in one of the rooms of Rodor’s staff.

“You shouldn’t have been in there in the first place,” the man hissed.

“I told you, I got lost,” the woman replied.

“You remained in the room and opened the drawers, I will have you reported,” the man threatened.

“You won’t find anything missing, there won’t be anything to say. Who knows, I might have a few words myself!”

He cleared his throat and walked past them to the staircase which would take him down to the storeroom and the armory. When he glanced back over his shoulder, they had continued on their way. He decided that if he saw the woman again, he should confront her about it too. He didn’t have time now.

Once down the staircase, he glanced quickly into the door of the armory—which was entirely empty. Two squires were picking up more materials to bring to the throne room. He wondered at the mess and shuddered.

He crossed the corridor to the storeroom and found Gwen gathering several bags of rye and grain for the kitchens. There was no sign of Trickler anywhere.

“Merlin!” she called out to him.

“Gwen! Do you need some help with that?” He shouldn’t be helping her, he needed to find Trickler.

“No need. Is it true that Arthur has abandoned his wedding plans?”

Merlin blinked at her. “I guess news travels fast?”

“Well, I mean it’s good, but... I never expected him to step away from a challenge and… well, to bring insult to a lady, I guess.”

Merlin swallowed, he needed to think on his feet. “I hardly think she would be insulted, in fact she is not quite well. It would make for a strange betrothal...” _Damn,_ that wasn’t what he wanted to say at all.

Gwen lifted her eyebrows and looked confused. “So, he intends to marry her after all?”

Merlin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He took the heavy sack of grain from Gwen’s hands and put it down on the ground. “Look, Gwen. It’s not that simple. I don’t think Arthur feels quite ready to commit. To a wedding, that is. Any wedding.”

Gwen sat down on a crate nearby, hugging the sack of rye in front of her. “Then why did he ask her at all? Was it a statement?”

“What? No!” He knelt down in front of her. “Goodness, no. Listen, Gwen, there’s something…” There were voices suddenly coming from the corridor. “There’s more going on. But some of it might be dangerous.”

She rubbed her hands together and looked down. “I understand that I can’t know it all, but tell me something Merlin. Did I do something wrong?”

The voices were getting closer. “No, Gwen,” he said, but she gave him a stern look. “Look, I’m the last person to tell you…”

“Right, well,” she said, looking angry, “the evening schedule has changed and Arthur is to attend as a knight, unarmed. He will be seated next to his father.”

“Please understand—” He stood up.

“Perhaps I understand what it is you don’t want to say. I wish you’d said it straight.” She picked up the bag of grains and pushed past him, leaving the storeroom.

Before he could reply she was in the corridor and he saw Trickler coming down from the staircase. He needed to get into action. He’d make it up to Gwen another time.

The voices paused when they noticed Gwen and Trickler passing in the corridor, and took a different direction. Merlin gathered himself and went to stand beside the door opening to listen in. The voices carried along the hall. Merlin recognized them to be Kolby and Weston speaking to each other. He wondered what Godwyn’s manservants had to do with anything. The fact that they were both not attending their king spoke volumes about the value of their meeting.

“They’ll never allow it,” he heard Kolby say.

From his vantage point he spotted Trickler, who was standing in the armory, in the other door opening, similarly listening in. Merlin retreated in the shadows, so he wouldn’t be seen. He wondered what the man was up to.

Weston pressed him, “Lady Elena will be very displeased.”

“The only ones they’ve allowed are Gaius and Merlin, they’re entering the library tonight.”

Merlin stifled a gasp. Morgana had done it! She had secured access for them, perhaps they could find something of value.

“How are they getting in?”

“Prince Arthur carries the note with permission.”

“Then we will take the note,” Weston said.

“Where do we find anything about the Sidhe? We don’t even know for certain if Uther still has the book.”

“We have to try, stop being such a coward.”

Merlin wondered. It was unusual that anyone would need notes to enter anywhere. The guards knew exactly who he and Gaius were, and they would no doubt be instructed by Uther to let them in by now already. The note was a distraction.

Trickler must have also realized that the two were done talking and started to move. Merlin waited patiently until he heard the door to the stairs close quietly before he went into the armory to gather Arthur’s armor.

He returned up the stairs, passing a horde of stressed servants, running back and forth for the evening’s preparations. He nearly stepped on the dress of a serving woman he didn’t know carrying a tall bouquet of flowers, and he narrowly avoided a servant with a tray filled with cups. The evening was setting and a red sun filled the corridors through the colorless window panes, emphasizing the torch bearer’s flame, as he was lighting the sconces one by one.

He found Arthur’s chambers empty and set to lighting the fire, closing the curtain, and cleaning the room. He warmed the room further with the aid of his magic to push away the chill that the late autumn had brought along. Each night was cooler than the last and they were sure to see snow by morning, he could smell it in the air.

The boar head trophy was still lying on the table, so he pushed one of the dining chairs to the corner of the room, beside the fireplace, and climbed it. He almost couldn’t reach the hook so he pushed the chair a bit closer to the wall, stood on the back rest, and pulled the heavy trophy up over his head. He leaned slightly forward to try and find the hook, nearly had it and...

At that moment Arthur bulldozed into his room in a hurry and Merlin’s legs decided to turn to jelly. He only just managed to snap the heavy trophy onto the hook before the chair beneath his feet wobbled and fell out from under him with a bang.

Arthur spun around in surprise, his hand grabbing for his sword, which he wasn’t carrying. “What in the name of… Merlin?!”

Merlin was holding onto the beast’s tusks and flailed with his legs. “Uh, Arthur, a little help?” The ground looked ridiculously far away from here and he didn’t want to let go.

Arthur rushed over to him and shoved the chair away with a heavy boot.

“No, wait…” Merlin began, his fingers were starting to get sore holding onto the narrow ivory.

“Let go, Merlin.”

Merlin looked down to see Arthur with his arms stretched out.

“What, you don’t think I can catch?”

With only a moment’s hesitation he let go. Instead of the floor rising up to meeting him, two powerful hands grabbed onto his legs, and his arms fell onto Arthur’s shoulders. He wasn’t falling anymore, and Arthur held him as if it was no trouble at all, strong fingers digging into his thighs. He looked down at Arthur looking up at him and felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“All right, Merlin?”

“I’m alive.”

Arthur grinned. “I’d say that makes us about even.”

Merlin slid all the way down Arthur’s chest until his toes touched the ground, and Arthur’s hands were slowly letting his legs pass through them until they nearly reached his bum.

“Not even close,” Merlin huffed with a small smile. His cheeks were burning and his hands had grabbed onto fist fulls of the collar of Arthur’s red shirt. A delicious fire had ignited in his gut, sending him all the wrong signals and pushing away the risks of the unlocked door. What struck him with heated clarity was that Arthur still hadn’t let go of his legs, and, judging by his open-mouthed smile, was enjoying this as much as he was.

Rational thoughts fled his mind when Arthur leaned in, and he leaned down to catch his mouth in a crushing kiss. It was short, closed lipped and savage, intended to confirm all that they felt, what they had shared, and what was to come.

Arthur stepped back first, letting go of Merlin’s legs at last and said, “I really do need to get ready.” He stared into Merlin’s eyes, wordlessly telling him something entirely different.

Reluctantly, Merlin let go of Arthur’s shirt and nodded. There was a storm brewing inside of him that didn’t want to be quelled yet. “Yes, of course.” He noticed Arthur’s cheeks coloring, and the way his eyebrows conveyed his longing. Just that look was enough to let Merlin grow hard. If only they could have some more time...

When Arthur turned around and strode off to his wardrobe to prepare for the feast, it broke the magical eye-contact between them and Merlin felt that he could recollect himself at last. He had to do his best at serving him, that was his job.

“I’ll be wearing my hauberk, we are honoring the knights.”

Merlin followed, opened the wardrobe and dug around. “Do you want to wear your gambeson?”

“If I wish to die from the heat,” Arthur said, undoing his belt. When Merlin gave him an idiotic look, he remarked, “Which I _don’t_.”

“Just checking, sire.” Merlin smirked and took out an older brown shirt. It would do well to absorb the oils on the hauberk. He helped him out of the red shirt and instead of throwing it over the folding screen, he beheld Arthur’s chest. He marveled at how the light of the fire formed shadows over his pecs, while highlighting his chest hair. The small necklace lay neatly in the valley between them. His nipples were gathering into nubs as the cooler air swept over them.

He knew they should be discussing what they heard and discovered, that time was short. But everything Arthur was, was infinitely more important right now. He sought out Arthur’s eyes, feeling the tension inside of him tugging at his groin when he saw a tender approval in his gaze. Somewhere in between, the red shirt fell to the floor when Merlin reached out and cupped his pecs, feeling entirely obscene and thrilled. He dipped his head and kissed that place right above the red stone, licking his way up, over his chest hair, past his collarbone and up into his neck until he heard Arthur gasp.

He pulled back, for a moment dreading that someone had walked into the room. Instead, he saw that Arthur had thrown his head back and was enjoying the moment. He bit his lip, hard.

“What you do to me,” Arthur remarked, and lowered his chin again, “as I need to get dressed.” He reached out and pulled Merlin’s neck scarf down. He eyed a particular spot, and Merlin knew it was the mark he’d made that morning. “It’s a really bad idea.” And Arthur took his turn, latching onto Merlin’s neck with his mouth, found that same spot, and sucked on it.

Merlin tilted his head and hissed a gasp at the pleasing sting. His legs were burning, fighting to keep him upright and he reached a hand into Arthur’s hair, trying to keep himself steady.

When Arthur pulled back, he looked pleased. His lips were red and wet and his eyes full of passion. “I really do need to go, I have to…”

“Yes, I know,” Merlin said. He picked up the brown shirt and helped Arthur into it, held out the hauberk over his head to climb into, followed by his coif, belt, cloak, and gloves.

Somewhere along the line, he didn’t even know when or how, they ended up kissing again. Merlin couldn’t help himself, keeping half an ear out for the door behind him while tasting Arthur’s tongue and feeling the heat of Arthur’s body in front of him. He only stopped when he felt a hand between them.

Arthur held out a piece of paper. “By the way, you and Gaius have access to the library, to find something to help Lady Vivian. I’ve got the notice,” he said with strain in his voice, like his mind was pulling him in other directions.

“Don’t really need the notice, do we?” Merlin asked hoarsely, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Likely not. But you’d be expected to hang on to it anyway.”

Merlin pocketed it and reached up to Arthur’s hair. When Arthur grabbed his wrist, he explained, “Your hair’s a mess. Let me—” he paused when Arthur’s thumb made a small circle on the inside of his wrist, before letting go. It was too much for him, everything was too much. He combed Arthur’s hair with his fingers until his blond locks were untangled and Merlin’s damage was undone. Then he held out the coronet to place on Arthur’s head, and did so with care.

“How do I look?” Arthur held a hand on his hip and puffed out his chest.

“Er, vain?”

“What?” Arthur’s face faltered and he frowned.

“Self-indulgent?” Merlin grinned.

“Well, if you’re going to be like that...” He pushed past Merlin in a dramatic huff.

“Arrogant!” he offered enthusiastically.

“You can just… shut up.” He reached for the door handle.

“Majestic?” Merlin said at last with a different tone to his voice, picking up the red shirt from the floor. He smirked at Arthur out of the corner of his eyes.

Arthur’s hand stayed on the door handle and Merlin saw his lips twitch in amusement. When he opened the door at last, he let out a deep sigh and looked back at him. “Will you come to me... tonight?”

Merlin was bereft of any coherent thought, he felt suddenly dizzy and too warm in his clothes. He forgot entirely to breathe. He wasn’t certain if his voice would work when he answered, softly, “Yes, I will.”

He watched as the red cape swept past the door frame and Arthur was gone to the feast. Something warm and overpowering was growing within him, making him feel stupid. Stupidly in love, that was.

  
**\-----57 Arthur-----**

That evening’s feast was far more pleasant to Arthur than usual. They served boar meat, quail, and several types of fish with honeyed carrots and mashed fruit sauces. Godwyn had offered more of his fine wines for that day and all the guests were becoming pleasantly drunk.

For the first course, Merlin had emerged from the kitchens to serve him and Arthur had ignored him, turning instead to his father to revel in the success that the training session had brought. The knights and other nobles were at ease with one another. The promise of knowing Merlin stood behind him, watching over him, and waiting for that time after the feast was creating a pleasant anticipation in his gut.

Tybalt was the first one who remarked, with a boisterous shout, that it had started to snow. Morgana, who was now seated around the corner from Arthur applauded the boy and told King Alined what a clever child it was. Alined looked up at her in surprise, tearing his speculative gaze away from Merlin. Arthur pretended he hadn’t noticed.

The only one who did not enjoy the feast was King Olaf, who missed the presence of his daughter and sat talking to Gudrun quietly.

The food was cleared off the tables and the candelabras at the stage were lit, announcing the performers of the evening. There was a small theater group and a band consisting of a flutist and a hand-drummer, who accompanied the merry stories. They had prepared tales from all of the five kingdoms.

The tale of Camelot consisted of Uther’s great victory over the last dragons with large red flags representing the dragons, which were put to the torch, to great amusement of the crowd. Rodor’s tale told of a battle at the cliffs, where enemy soldiers were pushed off the edge, aimed to take flight and tragically failed. The characterizations were hilarious and the guests laughed heartily. Godwyn’s story spoke of a princess who walked upside down and ate tiny frogs like candy. Godwyn’s smile was sour, but he clapped when the performers seemed to actually be eating a live frog, making the audience wince. Arthur too hoped it was just a show.

Trickler came in late to serve Alined, and Merlin saw the servant speak with him over his shoulder for some time. Morgana leaned back, pretending to regard the performers but probably trying to listen in. She held the goblet in her hand and swirled it around. From the steady motion, Arthur figured that either she couldn’t hear them or hadn’t heard anything that shocked her enough to stop.

The performers’ stories turned darker and Alined’s tale spoke of a storm destroying half his castle followed by a merry song about bricks for bread. At last Odin’s tale was a lament about a young woman being nearly raped the day of her wedding, and heroically saved by her future husband, after he heard the voices of the gods telling him to see her. It was a story full of rescue and hope. Olaf did not enjoy it at all, and left the banquet hall before the song had ended.

At last the performers bowed and the musicians continued to play music for whoever felt like dancing. Some of the knights asked the serving women and they complied, although their dancing styles did not always match.

From the corner of his eye Arthur saw Merlin move towards the door, where Gaius had just entered. He shifted in his seat. They must be heading to the library now. He also saw that Trickler stepped into Merlin’s path, accidentally, and held up his hands as apology. Merlin smiled at him and resumed his path, while Trickler resumed his position behind Alined’s chair. Merlin patted his pocket, paused momentarily and continued towards Gaius and left.

“I’m surprised who took the bait,” his father said beside him, rubbing his chin.

“How do you mean?”

“I was expecting Weston to take it,” Uther looked at him meaningfully.

“Weston isn’t here, perhaps he’s already making plans of his own. Do you even know what they are after?”

“Gaius will find out for us. The guards are ready.”

Arthur turned to his father and lifted the goblet to his lips. “Did you lock the library knowing someone would try to enter it?”

“I had information, but I am just seeing if it is accurate,” his father said impassively.

“From what I have gathered, from the strange events going on, I would not suspect Godwyn of much.” He took a sip of his wine casually. “I would sooner look at—”

“Yes, Arthur, I know. I saw it.”

“Father, one of them might have magic.”

This time his father sat up straight and looked at Arthur directly, breaking away from his casual mood. His expression was no longer guarded. “Who does, what have you seen?”

Arthur sighed, he was suddenly anxious of telling more and felt a heavy foreboding. “My heart never belonged to Lady Vivian, father. I was not myself.”

Uther studied him and sat back up, working his jaw and placing the heavy sigil back in front of him, on his chest. “I thought that you were using it to get out of the council meetings. It was rather a surprise to see you there today.”

“What? No! I know how important they are.”

“You are not giving it your best, Arthur.”

Arthur felt as if a bucket of ice had been poured over his insides. “I am doing as best I can,” he protested.

“I need better from you, you are speaking only what is on your mind and you don’t think ahead of what is on theirs. And this mess with Vivian.”

“It’s not a mess, father!” he said, and lowered his voice. “She suffers the same enchantment, and I don’t know how she might be released from it. If she doesn’t become herself, there will be no treaty.”

“That is unlikely,” Uther denied. “Now, there will be a treaty, but what’s more important is that we need to figure out who did it.”

“What about helping Vivian?”

“I have very little doubt that Gaius has already made those conclusions and is going to find something scientific to stop it.”

He pushed his goblet away, he lost his taste for it. While his father was always surprising him during the meetings in cunning and anticipation, he had such an obstinate way of dealing with problems right before him.

When he looked up, his father was regarding him cautiously. “Did Gaius give you anything against it?”

“No, why?”

“Then how come it didn’t work on you?”

Arthur did his very best not to blush, but he felt blood rush to his cheeks. He hadn’t anticipated this question at all. His father was right, he would have to be smarter. “I suppose I am just too bull-headed to be swayed by something like that.”

His father seemed pleased with that for the moment.

This eyes strayed towards Olaf’s empty seat contemplatively. “When she recovers, if she does… considering everything that has happened, and the missed feasts, I should like to present Lady Vivian with a gift. Something which causes no offense,” Arthur said, keeping his eyes on the table cloth in front of him.

“Now you are thinking with your head again,” Uther said in a pleased tone. “Yes, that will do. I will pick something out and you will offer it to her. Do nothing strange, and be sure not to offend Olaf again.”

“Of course, father…” Arthur said and sighed. He had a bad feeling about this.

  
**\-----58 Merlin-----**

When Merlin and Gaius arrived at the library door, five guards were standing in front of it. They stepped aside when they saw them coming and pointed their spears in other directions. “Gaius, you are expected,” the smaller guard said, and took out a key to unlock the door. Another one held out a torch for Gaius to hold.

“Yes, I believe I am. Do be so kind to lock the door behind us.”

“Certainly, just be careful with the torches, and watch your step.”

Merlin took the torch and stepped into the library in front of Gaius, taking a moment to light several sconces until the place was light enough for Gaius to navigate through with his old eyes. The heavy doors closed behind them and they heard the lock turn.

“Where do we start?” Merlin asked.

“I will visit the section with the more elaborate medical material, I want you to find everything you haven’t already read about love potions.”

“I thought that Uther had everything related to magic burned?”

“Everything with instructions yes, but a few works remain simply with how to identify magical influence, charms, and enchantments. It will not be easy to find, so hurry.”

Merlin handed Gaius the torch, picked up a small candle holder and set off to the area where he had once or twice found something about a magical creature, or those supposedly belonging to myth. He read the backs of the books, plundered through the content, and aimed to put them all back exactly as they were, which was easier said than done as there honestly seemed to be no system to Geoffrey’s work, apart from the one he had envisioned in his head. Besides that, they were dusty and there was an odd smell hanging in the air. There were many separate scrolls and loose pieces of paper which laid in between books, or fell off of shelves he touched. Within no time it was a mess.

It was nearly two hours later when he heard footsteps. He looked up and saw a shadow move along the wall. The legs of the shadow were pulled up high as if it wanted to avoid books. Instantly, Merlin knew it wasn’t Gaius.

He dove behind a bookshelf and peered out from behind the stack of thick geographical enchiridions. The person creating the shadows was making almost no sound as he walked and snuck around Geoffrey’s work desk, seeking something in particular. Then he lifted his head as if he’d had an idea and Merlin saw it was Trickler.

He wondered how Trickler had gotten past the guards in the first place. It could be done if he had magic, but five of them was still a feat. Perhaps he was very powerful after all. As Trickler scanned his surroundings, Merlin noticed he was wearing a cloth over his mouth and nose. The odd smell he had noticed seemed to slowly become stronger.

Merlin wondered about hiding, but at the same time, if Trickler had read the note he had stolen, it would be perfectly normal for Merlin to be there. So he pushed a pile of books off a shelf and stood next the case, just like before. He heard a very faint, nervous shuffling of feet as Trickler sought a different place to search.

Merlin remembered, Sidhe magic. That was what Godwyn’s manservants had been looking for. He split his efforts, aiming to find both information about love spells as well as the ancient and earthly magic of the Daoine Sidhe and quickly found some of both in some old scrolls and pamphlets.

There was another noise, this time sounding more like a stumble. It made the hairs on Merlin’s neck stand upright and he wasn’t certain why. He looked around and saw nothing.

“Gaius?”

Then he realized, Gaius had the torch. Whoever was walking around the library now certainly did not carry any light. There was another stumble and Merlin distinctly heard several uneven coughs now. Whoever it was, they were getting closer.

He shouldn’t have made a sound. He shouldn’t even have called his master’s name. He was looking in the wrong section entirely, and he didn’t want to have to explain himself. So he piled up several more potentially good books, and strode off towards the noise, trying his best to remain confident. But the noises were gone.

With the candle holder in one hand and a pile of books in the other, he walked back through the dimly lit bookcases, keeping his eyes pealed. The scent was getting stronger here and he felt rather unsettled by it, or his stomach did. It stank too and made his head woozy.

Merlin looked around carefully, ensuring that nobody was in sight and pointed his gaze upwards, unlocking one of the higher windows which suddenly rattled with the icy winds from the outside. Snow blew in and settled on the various bookcases.

 _Great_ , Merlin thought, _Geoffrey is going to be very happy with wet books_. He carefully sniffed and found the scent to be less strong already. Somewhat appeased, he continued and turned the corner. In front of him lay a man, face down on the ground.

“Kolby?” Merlin asked. He put the candle holder on the corner of Geoffrey’s desk and pulled the man’s shoulder over. It was Kolby. He held onto the books, but shook the man roughly. “Kolby! Wake up… Guards!” Merlin looked up and saw that the door to the library was ajar.

“Gaius?!”

He stuffed the books under Geoffrey’s desk and put an old cloth over them, picked up the candle holder and dove back into the library.

“Gaius!” he called out, but there was no answer. He thought about Trickler there, and Kolby who had come for the specific book. Had Trickler been successful?

“Merlin!”

“Gaius!” he called a third time and breathed in relief when he saw his master appear from another room, with several large books in hand.

“What’s all this ruckus? Don’t you know you ought never to shout in a library?”

“Someone’s broken in. They might still be here. We have to go.”

“In that case,” Gaius said, and added the books he was carrying to a large sack he had found, which was filled with several particular works. “You will have to carry this.”

“We need to leave, and don’t breathe once we get near the doors. I think something’s happened. I saw… I thought I saw someone.” He certainly didn’t want to mention Trickler’s name aloud, in case he was nearby and listening. If he had done that to Kolby, he might have intentions for them as well.

Merlin slung the large bag over his shoulder, wondering how books were allowed to weigh that much and guided Gaius back to the entrance, near the large, wooden desk. He added his own books to it from underneath the old cloth and pointed Gaius towards Kolby.

The old physician knelt next to the figure and after a short examination, looked up with a pleased grin. “He is only asleep, Merlin.”

“He fell asleep right there, do you think?” Merlin demanded with sass.

“No, indeed. Where are the guards anyway?”

“Let’s find out.”

As the approached the large wooden doors, there was a small draft but there was still that awful smell. Merlin held a sleeve over his nose and mouth and Gaius did the same. Once they were back in the corridor they saw that a packet with something foul smelling had been dropped among the guards. They lay exactly where they had stood, and were fast asleep. One of them was even snoring lightly.

Merlin stepped over the bodies and Gaius did the same. Once they were back in the corridor they both caught their breaths in ragged gasps. “We must alert the king, Merlin!”

“Yes, but we have to bring the books back to the workshop first.”

“I will speak with one of the guards, you go on ahead,” Gaius said, and departed as quickly as he could in the direction of the banquet hall.

Merlin sped down the staircase and turned into the entrance of the western tower where he promptly bumped into a figure. His heart caught in his throat.

Then he saw who it was.

“Morgana! I mean… Lady Morgana, what—”

She shushed him and pulled him around the corner, checking that no one was there. There wouldn’t be, at this late hour near the workshop, but Merlin was glad she’d checked after all.

“There’s been a book thief in the library, and—”

“The two-faced man comes near, you must see but you must not hear.” Her green eyes were pleading and she gripped his sleeve tightly.

Merlin was at a loss for words, he gaped at her stupidly.

“I don’t know what it means, Merlin. I honestly don’t. But I needed to tell you, tell someone. It keeps repeating in my head and I’m frightened. And cold, so, so cold.”

“Morgana, you’ve seen it? Are you really doing it now?”

“I’m not doing anything, Merlin. It just comes to me. And you don’t have any idea how scared I am.” Her lower lip trembled and Merlin could see how fast her heartbeat was pumping through one of the veins in her fair neck.

Though the books weighed heavily on his shoulders, he fully turned around to her. “I’m sorry that I asked you for this. If the bracelet kept this away, perhaps you should wear it again. I really don’t want you to be miserable. You’ve helped me so much already. See? You even got me permission to get the books.”

Morgana smiled at him and let out a long sigh. She searched his eyes for something, but he wasn’t certain what it was. “It stopped,” she said at last and rubbed the back of one hand with the other.

“You’ve been so enormously brave, I can’t even imagine,” he told her softly. “Please, Morgana, you have to get back, before anyone sees you here. The guards will be looking throughout the castle for a book thief. I think I might know who it is, but I’ve got to check these first. For Lady Vivian.”

Morgana looked away for a moment and then nodded. “I know the risks I’m taking. You don’t have to worry so much about me, I can make my way through it. Just hear what I say.”

Merlin marveled at her and smiled. “Alright, okay. But if it gets too much…”

She nodded at him and turned to leave. “And thank you. That scroll, I think I understand more now.” She put a hand on his shoulder.

Merlin beamed and nodded. “Don’t thank me, I had very little to do with it.”

“Just remember the words, Merlin.”

“I will,” he said and she was gone. He sank to his knees and hopped back up to pull the sack of books higher over his shoulders when he heard the alarm bells ring. He quickly disappeared into the workshop, removed the large jars from one of the cabinets, and stacked the books into it, until it looked as if they had always been there.

It wasn’t until about an hour later, some time after midnight, that Gaius returned. Merlin hadn’t wanted to leave the books alone, thinking that they might still be taken by someone who shouldn’t have them.

Gaius looked worn and tired, waving away Merlin’s enthusiastic greeting and took a seat at his usual place near his work bench.

“He was gone,” Gaius said at last.

“Who was?”

“Kolby, he was not there when Holden and the king returned to see.”

“Then they don’t believe you?”

“They do, but we didn’t tell the guards about Kolby, just about a break-in. It is too sensitive, for now. It might be a direct attack on King Godwyn to challenge his manservant of theft.”

“Do they know if anything has been stolen?”

“Since we took several books, there is no way to be certain. Geoffrey has been asked to make no further inquiries as to what was taken.”

Merlin swore. “Then we don’t even know if they took anything.”

“I’m pretty certain he will start cataloguing as soon as he can. Which books did you bring?” Gaius asked.

“Books about magic,” he said, checking out the various novels he brought along. “Charms and love spells and Sidhe magic.”

Gaius sighed and pinched his brow. “If Geoffrey finds out we took books about magic, we are both in dire trouble. Either that, or Kolby will be blamed and there will certainly be no chance of any peace treaty.”

“Oh no,” Merlin exclaimed, and turned around and looked at Gaius in alarm. “The book about Sidhe magic. It’s not there.”

“Did you put it in the bag?” Gaius asked, picking up the large sack next to his chair and scanning its content.

“When I went to look for you, I put them aside for a moment. I covered them with a sheet, but…” his eyes scanned the backs of the books several times. “It’s not there!”

“Then I’m afraid Kolby took it.”

“Not Kolby,” Merlin said. “Kolby was attacked by Trickler. I saw him enter the library.”

“When was this?”

“I couldn’t tell you when we were still there. I didn’t know if he might attack us. I couldn’t defend you by throwing books at him, Gaius.”

His master rested an arm on the table and picked up one of the loose candles lying there. “Then there is only one thing to do.”

“We have to tell Uther that Trickler has magic?”

“No, Merlin! Most certainly not!”

“Then what?”

“You must read all the books about magic tonight, and return them before Geoffrey categorizes the losses tomorrow. If only one book is missing, then we are both in the clear. Whoever has the book must either be found and charged, or return it in the same manner. Either way, it cannot affect us.”

Merlin shook his head. It was the cowardly approach and he did not like it one bit. “And what if they never put it back? What if no one finds out who took it and they take the book with them to Deorham? Then Uther wouldn’t even know who to charge with what!”

“We can deal with finding the book after we have returned these. You had better get started, Merlin. It will be a long night ahead.”

“But…” He thought about the promise he made to Arthur. There was no way he could go to him now, not if it would mean endangering himself and Gaius.

“It’s the only way.”

He cursed inwardly and picked the first book out of the cabinet. He lit the candle with an angry tilt of his head, getting an exasperated sigh from Gaius in return when it burned too brightly. He was missing out on his time with Arthur and there was no possible way to get a message to him now, not with all the commotion about books going on. He was trapped.

  
***

Merlin gently put a hand on Gaius’ shoulder and shook him awake. The old physician slowly sat up and took a few moments to gather himself. He wiped some of the stray white hairs out of his face and looked at who had roused him from his slumber.

“Gaius?” Merlin asked.

“Yes?” he asked sleepily.

“I think I might have found it.”

It took a few more minutes for Gaius to get up, stretch, drink some water, and head back to Merlin. It was still dark outside, and by now there was over an inch of snow on the window sill.

“I think this description of the effect of the spell is a match, from what I’ve observed.”

Gaius read it out loud, “Performed with the Sidhe Charm. The lover shall be affected by a particular need to see the other, be around the other, and say their name. Any past loves will be ignored, and will harm the lover. They will love the, what does it say here? The ‘target’ to death. Once the Sidhe spell is done, their fate is sealed unless the past awakens the heart. The only known potion to undo its effect—not yet fully tested—oh dear, contains the following...”

Gaius read on, going through the ingredient list one by one, “Fresh yarrow, lady's mantle, sticklewort… Merlin, these are very powerful herbs, but I don’t have any of these. It is entirely the wrong season for them.”

“Can I try to go out for them?” he begged.

“No, I’m saying they will not be growing. There is nothing you can do.”

“I don’t believe it,” he said with exasperation and sat down. “Lady Vivian is doomed to die.”

“This spell, I’m not even certain someone like Trickler could cast it. Sidhe magic is far too powerful for a regular sorcerer.” Gaius put a hand on Merlin’s arm. “You should bring back the books and get some rest. Whoever planned this out, did so meticulously.”

Merlin got up. “It said Sidhe magic, do you think it’s significant that Weston and Kolby were after the same thing?”

“It might be they knew the source of the spell and wanted to undo it.”

“That seems unlikely, they don’t even know magic is involved,” Merlin argued, putting the books back into the sack.

“Then perhaps you were right and Trickler is the one after the Sidhe knowledge in the first place.”

“And he heard from Weston where to find it it…”

Merlin nodded and threw the sack over his shoulder. “I won’t be long.”

“Be careful, Merlin,” Gaius said, his eyes drooping with sleep.

Merlin didn’t go through the castle, but went outside instead, with the bag on his back. He felt like the real burglar, even though he wasn’t. He trotted close to the castle wall in order to avoid making footprints in the fresh snow and paused at the window of the library which he had opened earlier. He put the heavy bag down and made certain that there was no one inside. Then one by one he lifted and guided the books back through the window to stack on the shelf where they belonged. By the time he was done, he was freezing and he hurried back as fast as he could.

When Merlin finally climbed into his cold room, under his three stacked blankets, it was only to catch a few precious hours of sleep.

  
***

He woke up to loud voices in Gaius’ work room. Dawn was just breaking and there was a full foot of snow piled up against his window now. He hadn’t even taken the time to undress, so he got up, ran a hand through his hair absently and opened his door. Eda was talking to Gaius in a hurry. Her face was pale and her nose and eyes were red. She was huddling a dark green shawl around her shoulders against the cold.

“And since when is this the case?”

“Since the middle of the night.”

“Did anything special happen at that moment?”

Eda saw Merlin and her chin wobbled, she looked like she was about to cry. “Nothing happened, she just went to rest, and now she’s not responding to anything. She still breathes and her eyes are opened, but nothing we do can rouse her.”

Merlin stepped down in a hurry and looked at her directly. “Eda, have you slept at all?”

“No, sir,” she said, trembling.

“I’m not a… oh goodness, you are as pale as a sheet.”

“Take these salts with you, I will make another powerful potion to see if we might get her conscious again,” Gaius offered.

Merlin took the small vial and turned back to Eda. “Take me to her.”

As they turned into the corridors, the first servants were already scurrying about. A large tapestry was being carried to a different room and a barrel of ale was being rolled into the kitchens.

“Eda, I have to tell you something,” Merlin said. He saw Eda pull the shawl more tightly around her. “I think what happened to Lady Vivian was… a charm or enchantment.”

“I already know that,” she said, “but I’ve had my hands full. I couldn’t even begin to look at what or why. Oh, I wish I had.”

Merlin bit his lip. He certainly _had_ , but whether he could tell her that he’d gotten into a book from the library and discovered Sidhe magic, probably wasn’t going to help his case right now. He struggled to try and think about what he could do. “Have you told anyone else? Have you mentioned it to King Olaf?”

“He’s been with her since last night. He’s holding her hand, trying to wake her up. Gudrun is there too, and Arni.”

He thought about the specific words in the book, the details about its effects. “Perhaps this sounds stupid, but we should perhaps rouse Arthur and bring him to her, if she hears his voice, however strong the spell might be, perhaps it returns some strength to her.”

“The king will never allow it,” Eda said.

“I’m not certain what else we can do. This is magic, not something logical.” They turned into the corridor to Vivian’s chambers at last and stood in front of her door. “Whatever happens, you still have my word of secrecy.”

Eda nodded to him and she pushed into the room where the three men hovered around her bed. Birger stood in the corner, a worried look on his face. Eda rushed to the edge of the bed. “Oh, Vivian! Are we too late?”

“Not yet, but it is close,” Gudrun said with a soft voice.

Lady Vivian sat in bed, with various pillows propped up behind her back. She was casually staring ahead and not really looking at anything in particular. Her hands lay listless beside her and her color was paler than usual. Merlin was anxious not to show his distress. He knew that Vivian was already affected a full day longer than Arthur was, and that the spell would potentially end her life.

Beside her sat King Olaf, on a small chair, made to look even smaller by his large stature. He was absently stroking his beard, lost in thought. He looked miserable.

“Out, out, out, all of you!” Eda declared.

Olaf shot her an angry look and let go of Vivian’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere.” Birger moved forward to stand beside his king.

“Out!” Eda said and regarded Olaf with a look of equal measure. “We are going to try something else, we are going to bring Prince Arthur in here.”

“I am far away from my kingdom, watching my daughter die. She is the closest thing to home I’ve got. If you think I’m going to let that—”

“You _know_ we are out of options, sire. I will do anything to protect her, and so must you,” she stared at him hard.

Merlin watched as Olaf actually stepped back from the bed and waved a hand to Arni and Gudrun. “You two, go get Arthur.”

Merlin turned to them. “Er, call George to help him get up. Normally I would but…” he held up the potion vial in his hand. “This might get her out of her stasis at least.”

Birger walked out behind the two other knights and shot a worried glance in Vivian’s direction, but then bowed. “I will stay nearby in case she needs something.”

Merlin felt a presence beside him. Olaf loomed over him threateningly. “Did you do this to her?”

“Me? No!”

The king held out an empty potion vial between two very large, calloused fingers. It looked very much like the one he currently had in his hand. “I found this,” he said, and dangled it in front of Merlin’s face.

“I serve Prince Arthur, and he was similarly affected. I would _never_ do something like this, not to him, and not to a guest.” He couldn’t even say that the potion vial was fake. If he pointed out the lack of residue in the vial, they might question him about that instead. He couldn’t very well explain he’d needed the diversion to try out the magic spells either.

“Then what is that?”

Merlin opened the small vial and held it up. “This is hartshorn, it helps those who are faint or dizzy. It’s common.”

Olaf regarded him with small eyes, worn into slits from his worries. “I will not stand by and do nothing.”

“Then go and talk to Uther,” Eda said with a cheeky voice. “Go tell your host that your daughter is gravely ill!”

With a puff the king gathered himself, straightened out his stretched doublet, and patted down his beard once more. His eyes shot wistfully towards Lady Vivian. “I will come back to see you later.” He left the room and she did not look up once.

Merlin quickly leaned over the bed and held the vial under Vivian’s nose. She made a face of true disgust and Eda uttered a small sound of happiness.

“My lady, please eat something, or drink something!”

Merlin looked at Eda’s trembling, exhausted hands as they filled a cup of water. “Eda, I must ask you again. Does Lady Vivian have a true love?”

“No, she doesn’t,” she said shakily. Lady Vivian wasn’t drinking, but she was looking at Eda and Merlin in a daze. “I already told you.”

“Are you certain?”

“Don’t you think that I would tell you if I knew, if it meant it could save her life?” She put the cup of water down and instead tried to offer her a small spoon full instead. Vivian drank it and Eda sighed in relief.

“This is magic, Eda. The only one who can help her is—”

“Arthur!” Vivian cried out.

Merlin spun around and saw Arthur, still sleepy but dressed in his blue shirt, entering the room. It was wrong, Merlin thought, Arthur should be wearing red, Pendragon red, during the visit of the kings. He didn’t have time to say anything because Arthur shot him an annoyed look and walked up to stand beside him. He ignored Merlin completely. _I couldn’t come to you_ , he wanted to say. But how could he with Eda and Vivian in the room?

“This might just be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” Arthur remarked as he picked up Vivian’s hand.

“I doubt that,” Merlin muttered.

“It’s working,” Eda gasped, drowning out the reply Arthur wanted to make. Vivian was breathing more deeply and her eyes were straining to look at Arthur as much as she could.

“So, you’ve told her it’s an enchantment,” Arthur said quietly.

“Gaius had me working all night,” he blurted out, feeling his ears burning.

“I’m sure he did. But you still can’t help her, can you?”

“No, it’s Sidhe magic, and powerful. She will die if we don’t do anything.”

This time Arthur looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. Vivian was swooning, too weak to really move towards him.

Merlin was visibly shaking. “It has to be Arni or Gudrun, one of them!”

“No, Merlin. Neither of them, I’m sure.” He leaned over the bed to look Vivian directly in the eyes. “Vivian, you can probably understand everything that’s going on. Who is the person you can’t see, can’t find?”

Eda leaned over Vivian from the other side of the bed and put another shawl around her shoulders to keep her warm. “What do you mean?”

“There might be someone who is entirely invisible to her, someone whose words or presence she ignores completely. If you know anyone of that description, you should tell us right away. That person is her love, only he can help her.”

“Oh. Oh lord,” Eda said. “Oh no.” She paled and stepped away from the bed.

“What is it?” Merlin asked.

“Call Gudrun, we need to get Olaf back in here.” She held her hands in front of her mouth. “He is the only one she hasn’t spoken to at all, she didn’t even look at him once. He’s been so distraught.”

Vivian kept staring at Arthur, unblinking. “Oh... my love, oh love… oh love!”

Arthur shot Merlin a worried glance that conveyed his depth of distress. Their eyes met and they knew what had to be done.

Merlin took a step back and swallowed with difficulty. “She said it, ‘oh love,’ it’s Olaf. I think she might have tried to tell me before. God, Vivian, you are brilliant!” That’s what she had been trying to tell him all along! That’s why Morgana had dreamt of Olaf. He ran out to the door and called out for Gudrun to fetch Olaf as soon as possible.

“Merlin…” Arthur turned around and looked up to him. He let go of Vivian’s hand. “We are too late.”

Vivian lay with her head back on her pillow and her eyes were closed. Eda was frowning at her and reached out to touch her shoulders. “You never even _told me_ , you stupid girl!”

Merlin gaped at Vivian, lying still, almost as white as her gown until he was pushed aside by Olaf’s large form, who nearly threw Arthur aside as well. “No, Vivian, no!” He had bulldozed back into the room with Birger in tow. But Vivian lay still.

Even after that, Merlin couldn’t collect himself. He was surprised to find that Arthur did. He put a firm hand on Olaf’s shoulder, even as the man tried to shrug it away and stood his ground. He was not going to back down. “King Olaf, we know for certain now that it was a love spell, an enchantment. I know what this must mean for the treaties but I have to tell it to you straight. Lady Vivian could only be saved by her true love. It appears to be you.”

“You are speaking nonsense, boy!” Olaf snarled.

Arthur wasn’t put out, and kept his hand on Olaf’s shoulder. “If you don’t try, she may truly be lost. You need to kiss her.”

Eda was looking at Olaf incredulously from the other side of the bed, tears running down her cheeks. Birger balled his fists.

“She’s my little girl. God’s punishment… I’m not going to…” He was breaking up.

“Olaf,” Eda spoke, “you are damned if you do and you’re a _damned fool_ if you don’t. Now get on with it before you lose her forever!”

Arthur took several steps back to give the king room. At last Olaf knelt forward and cupped Vivian’s cheek with his large hand, which made her look even smaller. He stroked her skin with his thumb. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

  
**\-----59 Arthur-----**

Merlin regarded it in shock and stepped backwards, bumping into Arthur. He grabbed Arthur’s wrist to steady himself, then looked at what he was doing and abruptly let go.

Slowly, Vivian’s hand, looking almost transparent, ethereal, twitched on the sheet, lifted and folded around her father’s shoulders. Eda sagged on her knees next to the bed, buried her head in her arms and sobbed. When Olaf sat up straight, he pulled Vivian against his chest, against his beard and held her there. She had her eyes closed and her arms firmly wrapped around him. He stroked her hair and spoke soft words to her.

“You did it,” Arthur said. “You’ve saved her,” he told Olaf.

The king looked up at last and Arthur saw that he was moved as well. He took a deep breath and sighed into Vivian’s hair. “I’m going to tell them.”

“Sire, don’t,” Birger said with a grumble.

Vivian’s fingers curled into the large cloak her father wore but she did not speak, not yet.

“Last night,” Olaf began, dismissing Birger’s warning, “the bards had it almost right. My wife was nearly… assaulted before our wedding. What they sung was that God had whispered that I needed to help her. But it wasn’t God, it was my wife’s first-born, her young daughter.

“Vivian is not my child by blood, but I have raised her all the same. I know that God will punish us for this, but I love her. Even while her mother is still alive, we have secretly loved each other for some years. I thought,” he paused and cleared his throat, “I thought that God had given her this affliction as a punishment for it, even though we have never done anything.”

“We are waiting,” Vivian said at last, pulling back and while she looked ragged, Arthur noticed that color had returned to her features and she no longer looked like she was halfway transparent. “We are waiting for my mother to die, but she is made strong.”

“I don’t want you to speak of her like that, Viv,” her father cooed. “It was an arranged marriage. It has not been bad, but it was never real.”

“We suffer her together,” she replied him.

“Whenever I go on travels, I take Vivian with me. It is the only moment we can share some time together. I tell my wife that I will watch her affliction, which I do. She is teaching our sons how to rule, when they might never rule at all.”

Arthur quickly looked at Merlin, who by now was almost backed up against the wall behind him. He was taking everything quite badly, it seemed. He knew how acutely he could feel about things. He also suddenly remembered that Vivian had seen him perform magic, and it wasn’t at all clear yet if she was going to talk about it.

He pressed on. “So this is why,” Arthur started, “she is Lady Vivian, not Princess Vivian. You do not want her to be your heir, you want her to be your wife.”

Eda sat up at last, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and got back to work. She offered Vivian the cup of water again. “Drink, my lady.”

Vivian pulled away from Olaf at last and took the cup. “I couldn’t have told you, Eda.”

“Well, it nearly cost you your life,” she said bitterly. “He knew!” She gestured at Birger.

The tall blond man turned his head away. He had been the only other person entrusted with the information.

“Watch your tone, Eda,” Olaf chided. “You are too tired and will say things you will regret.”

“Damn right, I will,” she said in a huff.

“Eda, from what I gather you have served Lady Vivian admirably. You should get some rest, we will ask Guinevere to look after her today,” Arthur said. “Meanwhile, I would like to announce Vivian’s recovery to my father and to the staff, if you will permit me.”

Vivian handed the empty cup back to Eda and straightened herself. “I am not quite well yet, Arthur. Please do not allow any visitors yet. But make sure to thank Merlin for everything he did, I mean _everything_.”

He gaped at her in confusion. Did she mean…? He turned around to where Merlin had stood only to find him missing. He hadn’t even heard him leave the room. He quickly recovered and bowed to Vivian. “Of course, my lady,” he replied, and moved to the door.

“Arthur,” Olaf called out to him in a low rumbling growl, dropping his title.

Arthur kept his hand on the door handle and looked up. “None of this matters for the negotiations, they will not hear of it. But I will ask you, what did you tell my father exactly?”

“He wasn’t there when I knocked on his door, I was already on my way back here when Birger called out to me.”

“I am glad for it. I will tell Gudrun and Arni to come in and see for themselves that their lady is well again, and hope that you will both join us at the feast tonight.”

  
***

After Arthur had quickly relayed the good news to Gudrun and Arni, he set off in the direction of his father’s chambers. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet and he wasn’t in the best of moods. It was good that Lady Vivian was back to normal, even better that she had a secret to keep, as it meant that she would be more likely to keep Merlin’s secret as well. It seemed to Arthur that she _would_ keep it.

Also, her secret explained a lot about her behavior, her attitude towards others, and her constant need to reaffirm her status. She was planning to be a queen, and now she wasn’t even an heir, due to her relation to Olaf. She was putting up the act in order to keep her status intact. She would be the oldest and wisest of the children, and never have anything to say. Her life would be comparable to Morgana’s; doted on by the king, but never allowed her own status or recognition. He could barely even consider what it would be like.

And Merlin had used magic to try and save her, despite all that she was and all that she did. He wondered if many others would have been so gallant.

He had to bring Vivian a gift too, he had promised Morgana. She had been right about many things, and probably she was right about this. He only hoped that she was wrong about Uther keeping her for his own self, because it would seriously throw him off. Though he had no right to say it, regarding his own personal choice.

No matter what he did, his thoughts spiraled back to Merlin. How he hadn’t shown up last night, and he had waited until the candles had died, without any word or even a note. He had spent time reluctantly answering letters to local lords, and to the parents whose daughter had been missing after the events at The Crossroads, telling them he would send a patrol out as soon as he could.

He thought that Merlin might have reconsidered again. Until the alarm bells were rung, and apparently there had been a theft from the library. The guards had been defeated and the doors had been wide open. The library’s guards had woken up and told him that Gaius and Merlin had entered the library hours ago, but appeared to be gone.

For a moment he had dreaded the worst until Gaius showed up, walked into the library, and explained to them cautiously that they thought that they had heard something, but it appeared they were mistaken. Geoffrey was roused from his chambers and Gaius appeased him that it was probably nothing, and they only had some medical books, which would be returned shortly.

All the while Arthur expected Merlin to show up and explain the situation in more detail to him. He waited until Geoffrey was fully convinced to go back to sleep and start his indexing in the morning, and then waited some more. It was deep into the night when he finally went to sleep, frustrated and disappointed.

“Prince Arthur?” Holden called down the hall. “Pleased to see you so early this morning. Will you follow me please, your father has summoned you.”

“I’m on my way to see him now, what are the summons for?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t say,” Holden said pertly.

“Come now, I know he keeps you in the loop. No need to play here,” Arthur said. He wondered where his father had been exactly when Olaf had knocked on his door.

“It’s not my business, to be honest,” Holden evaded.

“Well, I know it anyway. I will receive a gift for Lady Vivian. She seems to be on the way to recovery. You can pass that on through to the staff, though she will want no visitors today and all inquiries should go through Eda or… her father.”

Holden pushed open the door to his father’s grand chambers and Arthur found his father, fully dressed with cloak, gloves, and riding boots as if he had already taken a trip that early before dawn, speaking to someone. The man he spoke to was short and round, having seen many days of fine food, and he was dressed in fancy, decorated pastel clothes which seemed to aim to conceal his roundness, but only served to accentuate it further. The man was bald and shaven and he wore a pleasant perfume.

“And you are certain this will work?” Uther asked him.

“Never have I been more certain in my life,” the man said with a pleasant tone. “It took me great pains to obtain it too!” Arthur noticed his teeth weren’t all that good, but the man looked confidently at his father so he assumed he was highborn. The man was also wearing riding boots, made of fine soft leather.

“Ah, there you are Arthur. I would like to introduce you to Lord Savaric the Bald, who has traveled to meet King Rodor. They have worked together before. He is our guest here in Camelot.”

He gave a small bow, and received a deep, honorable bow in return. So, that’s where his father had been, to escort the man back into the citadel. In person. “I assumed I was to receive an item, which I may offer as a gift,” Arthur began.

“Oh yes, it’s right there. A fine piece and of high value.” Uther waved his hand dismissively as if it was no effort at all to give it away.

Despite his father’s obvious anticipation to discuss matters with Lord Savaric, Arthur turned a shoulder and walked over to the small table where an ornate box was placed. He opened the box and carefully studied the tiara that lay inside its red velvet lining. He closed the box and shook his head. “Is there anything else I can offer her?”

“You will offer what I’ve chosen, Arthur,” his father said promptly.

He could hardly explain to his father that a small crown was the least suitable gift to offer Lady Vivian, the adopted daughter who was waiting for her mother to die so she could take her place as queen. It would be a mockery of her station and would hurt her after everything that had befallen her. Arthur knew his father would never understand. He put the small wooden box into his pocket and turned to his father at last, lifting his eyebrows expectantly. “If not for this gift, why have you summoned me?”

“There has been a theft from the library last night,” Uther declared with a small smirk.

“You are satisfied by this?” Arthur remarked, walking confidently about the room and passing in front of Lord Savaric, to take a candied fruit out of a small bowl on his father’s dining table.

“I have been wondering when the kings would make their move. I believe Godwyn and Alined to be heavily involved in something. Either that, or it has been a setup to make them look guilty.”

Arthur saw his shot clean. “I wouldn’t put it past Alined, but Godwyn, really?”

Uther looked Arthur over. “And why do you say that?”

“Because Alined hasn’t asked you anything during the council meetings,” Arthur said. “The others have started to ask for favors, but he has not.”

His father regarded him with a pleased grin and nodded, pushing his cloak back over his shoulders. “Good observation. Last night the note we wrote was found lying next to the guards, but we know that Gaius and Merlin did not use it.”

“Merlin was fool enough to have his pockets emptied,” Holden added.

Arthur clenched his jaw. “Merlin was smart enough to know the note was a trap. He _let_ his pockets be emptied to provide you with information.”

Savaric tilted his head as he looked at Arthur, a small smile playing on his lips. It stirred something within Arthur that he couldn’t quite place.

“And it has been useful. Geoffrey has indexed the books about magic immediately, starting early this morning, and found that one is missing. We know a sorcerer is active, but not to which household they belong. So, we intend to set another trap.”

Arthur felt a nagging feeling at the back of his mind. There was something he was missing but he wasn’t certain what it was. “A trap?” he asked, cautiously.

“Prince Arthur, do you not approve?” Savaric asked and wiggled the fat fingers that came out of his decorated sleeves.

“Anyone performing magic in Camelot must be arrested immediately,” he said without a pause, “but won’t it bring suspicion to the kings? Won’t this hurt the peace talks?”

“I doubt the kings themselves have magic, the peace talks are almost completed. Gradually they have got too much to lose,” Uther said and looked thoroughly pleased with himself. “And so they will distance themselves from whoever is revealed.”

“Revealed how,” Arthur asked.

Savaric reached into an inside pocket and took out a flute with several rows of tubes put together. Arthur recognized it to be a pan flute. “This is the Nine Whistles, and its sound will ensorcell sorcerers, bewitch witches, and draw out each and every magical being who hears it!”

“As far as yesterday’s peace talks were concerned, this item is illegal,” Arthur remarked. “Besides, father I assumed you would be against using items of magic?”

“Oh, come now, Arthur,” Uther said.

“Of course, father. You are not trading it after all, are you?” He was walking on thin ice and he knew it. Whoever had cast the spell was most certainly evil, and there was no denying that Vivian had been on the brink of death. He might have been dead too, if it wasn’t for…

“What do you mean by ‘draw out?’” Arthur asked. “How does it work?” He watched Savaric play around with the instrument in his fingers and flip it over.

“I’m glad you asked. This information must not leave this room, and therefore it will be set into motion right away. Any being with magic will be drawn to this instrument, they will come immediately and without hesitation. We can gather out the weed from whence it grows!”

“To be executed immediately!” Uther smiled.

“Immediately,” Savaric confirmed with a nasty curl of his lip.

Suddenly, Arthur became terrified. And he recognized who Savaric really was.

  
**\-----60 Merlin-----**

Merlin walked up to Uther’s chambers carrying Arthur’s breakfast after finding out the prince hadn’t had any when he’d entered the kitchens. He had come from Gaius’ workshop where he told his master that the spell was the right one, that Lady Vivian was now restored to her true self, albeit still very exhausted and that no one had mentioned anything about books yet. Things seemed to be going really well.

Gaius had also had interesting news, after spending several hours reading the medical books he’d taken from the library. “Her condition is probably not magical, the original affliction that is,” Gaius said with a calm voice. “It is certainly not a curse either. It must be a natural thing.”

“How is that natural?”

“They call it the Sacred Disease, and I’m afraid there is no known cure.” Gaius had convinced him that there was nothing more they could do for her, and that she also needn’t fear it any longer. Once she was recovered they would share this information with her and explain anything they might know about it.

Merlin hummed to himself and ascended Uther’s tower. He was convinced that if he just told Arthur that he’d been up all last night working for Gaius, that he would come to understand. It wouldn’t do to leave these things unspoken between them. Arthur would understand. He was already thinking about how he would say it and anticipating what Arthur might say in return.

He knocked on the door and waited for Holden to open. Through the cracks of the door he heard someone say, “...within the hour.” Holden opened the door, observed Merlin and his tray, and waited.

Merlin sighed and explained, “George didn’t bring Arthur breakfast, so I’ve got it for him here.”

“It’s not a good time—” Holden started to say.

“Let him in,” Uther said, his voice quiet but dominant.

Merlin passed Holden to find Uther, Arthur, and a guest in the room. He looked at Arthur for a moment, only to be thoroughly ignored again, and placed the tray on the dining table close to him. As he let go of the tray and took the top off, Arthur grabbed his wrist and said, “Is that all? You know I’m going to be in the council meeting all day long and this won’t do. When will you learn?”

“But…” He didn’t even know what to say. Words fled his mind and instead filled him with anger. Whatever was going on, this was just stupid. He pulled his wrist back and bowed. “I will go get something more to eat, sire.”

“You are not dismissed yet. Tell us what happened at the library,” Uther said.

Merlin eyed the guest suspiciously, without having been introduced and nearly faltered when Arthur bumped past him to get to his breakfast. “I thought, I mean, I assumed you already had the account from Gaius.”

“We have had one account, but you were both there,” Uther said quietly. He held out a hand for Merlin to start talking.

He gathered himself and ignored Arthur chewing beside him, stepped further into the room, and spoke up, “We were looking for books—”

“Where were you looking?”

“A variety of shelves. Mostly in the room at the back, with the medical history of herbs, potions, and other ancient knowledge.” That’s where Gaius had been.

“Then what?”

“I heard, I thought I heard something. It was rather frightening, you know with everything being quite dark.”

“Did you hear anything specific?” Uther was visibly losing his patience.

“No, it might have been the wind. There was an open window. But if someone did manage to get in, they were very horrible to the guards. Are they all better now?” Merlin had already decided he wasn’t going to tell them anything, not about Alined, Trickler, Weston, or Kolby, and whatever he thought it meant for Godwyn.

“Which books did you take?”

“I’m not certain, Gaius chose and I just carried them, and I held the torch so that he could walk freely,” he said gently, innocently, and he shrugged somewhat aloof. Uther let out a long sigh and the guest looked at him speculatively. The newcomer didn’t seem convinced at all. Merlin grinned at them and bowed. “Well, I’m not sure if I’ve been helpful. I’ll be back with some more breakfast, and maybe I’ll remember something else.” He turned towards the door until he heard Arthur speak.

“Hold it right there.”

Merlin turned around, his eyebrows lifted and his face neutral. Whatever Arthur was up to, he would play along if he had to. He just didn’t understand what was going on. Arthur held out in front of him an empty box with red velvet on the inside.

“Where’s the tiara?”

Both Uther and the guest shifted their gaze from the box to Merlin.

“I didn’t—” Holden was already at him and digging into his pockets. “Stop! I didn’t take any...” His face faltered when Holden took out a small filigree silver crown from his pocket.

“Merlin, _really?_ ” Arthur sounded deeply disappointed.

Uther pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Take him to the dungeons. But hush it up, I don’t want this to cause unrest, we don’t have time for it.”

“This wasn’t me, I would _never_ steal!” Merlin protested. “You’ve got to believe me!” He looked at Holden who was holding him down. “You planted this on me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Holden sneered. “However much I saw this coming, I wouldn’t care enough to do that. Guards!”

Arthur closed the box and turned away from him, obscenely picking up his goblet and drinking some of it with his back turned to Merlin.

“You’ve got to believe me! Arthur?!”

A dozen guards swept into the room and saw Holden keeping Merlin still. Arthur turned around and sighed, “Put him in a cell.”

“Athur!!”

“And keep him there for a while, he’s being impossible.”

Arthur didn’t meet his gaze and for a fearful moment Merlin thought that he was enchanted once again. It was only when he was already out of the room, looking back once that he saw Arthur looking straight at him. He didn’t understand that expression, it was almost as if Arthur was frightened of him.

He resisted being dragged and pushed forward by four armed guards until he reached the end of the hall. He knew it was useless to fight them. Their faces were glum, some of them knew who he was and that he was not unkind, but they had to obey their king. “I didn’t even do it!” he said to them out of protest. Once he was behind bars and the key was out of the lock, he threw his head in his hands. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why Arthur had tossed him in here. It was him, it _had_ to be him, who put the silver tiara in his pocket.

He expected Arthur to come down and explain himself, and waited for what seemed like eternity without seeing a glimpse. There were only one or two other people down here; one of them was snoring and the other was talking nonsense. It was bitterly cold, without any protection against the elements, and a fanning of snow coming down the small cell window whenever the wind fancied to blow in his direction.

At last he heard the outer cell being opened and he threw himself at the bars. He looked sideways to see a glimpse of whoever was coming.

“Gaius?”

“Merlin, what on earth did you do?”

“I didn’t do it, Gaius, I swear it.” He reached through the cell to take his master’s hand and squeezed it. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t. Prince Arthur says you’ve really done it this time.”

Merlin pulled his hand back. “You spoke to Arthur? What did he say?”

Gaius looked back over his shoulder and sighed.

“Arthur? Arthur!” In the distance, at the outer gate he saw Arthur standing with a large key ring. He looked at both Gaius and Merlin with a stony expression and locked the outer gate.

“Hold on a moment, I’m still in here!” Gaius said and walked back to Arthur.

“Arthur, why are you doing this?!” Real hurt was audible in his voice this time. He slammed against the bars, which Arthur knew very well he could open, but there was no way that he could actually get out now.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Gaius called out. “Prince Arthur?” But the prince was gone.

Merlin threw himself on the bench and lowered his head between his knees. He didn’t understand it. For a dreadful moment he thought that Arthur might have done this because he didn’t come to him in the evening. No, it wasn’t possible. That wasn’t the Arthur he had come to know.

“It seems he has forgotten me in here,” Gaius said.

“Not forgotten. He did that on purpose,” Merlin groaned. “He brought you here, didn’t he?”

“He told me to go and keep you company. I’m not certain what that means. Do you suppose he found out about the books?”

Merlin looked up at Gaius. “How could he find out, Gaius?”

“I don’t know Merlin, but let’s hope it’s certainly not that.”

  
***


	5. Time in Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The treaty of the Five Kings is underway. A sorcerer is sentenced to death, which threatens to upset the peace resolve. Both Merlin and Arthur use the time in between to perform several rescues and support the reunions they believe in.

  
**\-----61 Arthur-----**

Savaric and Uther had spoken at length about the trap in his absence. It would be executed immediately, while everyone was having lunch in their chambers before the council meeting. It would allow Uther a great vantage point to see which of the parties would be most outdone by the discovery. If an arrest was made, a pyre would be built during the afternoon for a great burning during the feast.

For once in his life Arthur felt the anticipation of his father’s plans get to him in a way that made his breath hitch and his heart stutter. There wasn’t anything he could to do dissuade his father. This was what he did. He conquered, overrule, and overcame. And he cheated his way through it.

He had used magic to create an heir, he had rid himself of magic during the Great Purge, but now he allowed whichever magical item would aid him specifically, to be used. What hurt him the most is that his father had always been his great example. For years he looked up to every decision his father made, and knew it was right. Lately he saw each decision in a new light and with new understanding and he saw they were all wrong. It wrung his heart and made him feel sick.

If Merlin would let himself out of the dungeon to come towards the sound, he would be immediately discovered and arrested. He had heard during private councils, months ago, that Gaius had performed magic as well, and that his father knew about it. It was the only reason he had lured Gaius down to the dungeons, to try and talk some sense into Merlin, and locked him in there with him. It was the only thing he could do to protect Gaius as well. He doubted his father had even taken it into account.

Now Savaric, which wasn’t even his real name, stood in the central hall which opened up to the courtyard. The household was instructed to take a break for lunch. The commotion had calmed down within minutes and silence hung in the air. Arthur was standing at the top of one of the staircases, beside his father, overlooking the upper corridors and across the balconies on the other side.

Any being with magic would be inexplicably drawn to the sound of the Nine Whistles and sentenced to execution by the time evening fell. The pristine layer of snow lying in the courtyard, broken only by a few lone pairs of traveling feet, betrayed the unrest within Arthur. He needed to make a decision about what to do if Merlin somehow, inexplicably showed up. He had to be relatively certain that it would be hard to get out of the dungeons undetected, even for him. There were many guards stationed along the walls.

Uther came to stand beside him and put a confident hand on Arthur’s shoulder and said to Savaric, “Begin.” The hand squeezed Arthur’s shoulder and for a horrible moment he thought that perhaps his father knew about everything and this was the way to prove it to him. That he had somehow found out about Merlin’s magic, or even about what Arthur felt for him. His usual bravado was lost to him, and he did not know the way out. So he stood under the firm grip of his father’s hand and heard the first soft notes emerge from the Nine Whistles.

It was a fine instrument with a soft, warm tone. But it did nothing to soothe him. Instead he hated the sound, as it swept across the empty halls. No one had been alerted to anything out of the ordinary, apart from lunch being served privately. Everyone was eating now. The song took shape and filled the halls with echoes and carried along the corridors without much volume, but it resonated in a way that wasn’t natural. It was played smooth and calm and Savaric had quite a skill to him, to make that sound come from it.

It took many minutes of staring at the man in the hallway, at his colorful, ridiculous pastel outfit and at the shaven head and face and his round belly, before Arthur could somehow find it within himself to acknowledge that perhaps Merlin wouldn’t come. The man’s wet lips slipped over the openings of the flute in a filthy performance. Arthur’s stomach roiled.

A door opened and closed behind Savaric, and Arthur’s heart felt like it skipped a beat or two. He heard footsteps, but couldn’t see yet what was happening. Then he gasped in surprise at the person who had triggered the trap at last.

Tybalt had walked out to stand in front of the musician and was staring at him intently. Savaric played the music on and turned into a small circle. Tybalt followed it diligently. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Trickler approaching from another corridor.

Then suddenly the earth shook and dust crumbled from the walls. Everyone stumbled and Savaric nearly tripped over his own feet. Arthur steadied himself against a wall and even his father held onto the banister to prevent himself from falling over. A heavy rumble shook through the floor and for just one moment Arthur thought the castle had come to life.

“Stop,” Uther called out.

Savaric stopped playing. Arthur watched as Trickler stopped walking too. “Wait, fa—" Arthur said.

“Guards, arrest the boy,” Uther announced without hesitation.

Tybalt was still taking a moment to get out of his trance, and before he knew it, two large armed guards had grabbed him by the shoulders, and one of them was picking up his legs.

This was wrong, Arthur knew it, this was entirely wrong. “It can’t be the boy! How can it be—"

“You’ve seen it for yourself, Arthur!”

“Stop!” a woman called out. Arthur turned to see Morgana racing across the balconies on the other side, dressed in an undergarment and dressing gown. The soft fabric swirled around her as she descended the stairs opposite them.

Tybalt started to scream and kick against the grip of the guards. “Let me go!”

“Morgana!” Arthur called out and pulled away from his father’s grip. He ran down.

“What is the meaning of this!” Morgana called out to him.

“You shouldn’t be here to witness this. What are you doing out of your room, undressed as you are?”

She looked at him with spiteful green eyes. “Let him go, Arthur. He’s just a child!”

“A sorcerer child,” Savaric objected.

“No! It was a trick!” Morgana said.

“My methods are infallible!” Savaric shot back.

All the while Tybalt screamed for them to let him go, to stop and that they were hurting him. He called out for his father. One of the guards suddenly yelled and threw off his helmet. Out of the helmet crawled a snake. Instead of the other guards letting go, more of them surged onto the boy to hold him there.

“You see, Morgana,” Uther said, descending the stairs with a pleased preeminence. “He just used magic to defend himself.”

“You will need only a small pyre, my lord,” Savaric said, pleased with himself.

Arthur looked from his father to all of the people around him. From one of the balconies Trickler was regarding the spectacle with wide, round eyes. His son was just dragged out of his sight and down the staircase towards the dungeons. He did not call out his son’s name. Several people had come to watch the screams. The hallways slowly filled with people and when Arthur looked up again, Trickler was gone from sight.

And everything about it was _wrong_ , Arthur knew it to his core. He was half satisfied that Merlin and Gaius hadn’t shown up, but he could never have foreseen this. If he would contest his father now, here, among all the people watching him, he would never be able to take a proper stand. “Morgana, I know that Gwen is attending Vivian right now. Allow me to escort you back.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you free him. He hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s just a—"

“Morgana, you have witnessed it first-hand. Even a boy can grow to become a powerful force of evil. I will not allow it,” Uther said steadfast.

“Come,” Arthur said, seeing the look of pure venom on her face. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

Reluctantly she turned around and walked up the stairs in the direction of her chambers. He followed closely behind her, careful to wait until there were no others around them.

“I had no idea, Morgana. You have to believe me. I know that this isn’t right.”

She stopped and looked at him somewhat in surprise. “I thought you agreed with him?”

He remained cautious. “Sometimes I do. But the boy isn’t evil. I know that much.”

“And what are you going to do about it? You never stand up to him!” She pulled her dressing gown more tightly around herself and crossed her arms. Her lips were set in a small, dissatisfied frown.

“I stand up to him plenty, Morgana. Only it’s not always visible. If it were, he’d have my hide. I’m telling you now because—”

“Because what? Because it’s going to make me feel better? I don’t think I will quite survive this!”

“No, Morgana. I know this might be impossible for you to understand, but… I _don’t_ believe that everyone who possesses magic is evil. And that’s why I will do what I can. Just don’t tell my father about this.”

She stared at him without blinking for some seconds and there was a color to her fair cheeks which betrayed her unease. “Do you really mean that?”

“I do,” he said simply. He was afraid to risk any further explanation that might give him away.

“Then do whatever you can. I don’t want to hear what it is. Just…” She turned from him.

Arthur nodded to her and watched her leave as she headed back towards her room. He stared after her and sighed. Of any possible outcomes, perhaps Tybalt was the worst of all. They were going to burn an innocent child, and he had no idea what to do. So he did the only thing he could.

He descended the dungeons where his father, Savaric, and Holden were processing Tybalt, which meant having the child strapped to a chair and assaulted with aggressive questions. Behind Arthur, Alined descended the staircase. Trickler was still nowhere to be seen.

“What is this about, Uther. What has happened? Explain it to me!” Alined called out as he gasped, having exercised more these few minutes than the past few months combined.

“The boy has magic! He has used it before us and will be sentenced to burn at the pyre at dusk. These are the laws, Alined. You have worked together with us to compose them yourself!”

“Nonsense, Tybalt is a regular boy! He has no magic. Release him at once!”

“Your words don’t mean anything down here. We have witnessed it first hand, the four of us have seen it.”

With a sickening churn, Arthur realized he was part of the four. He didn’t even know if Tybalt had put the snake in the helmet, or if Trickler had done that. If it was Trickler, it was the worst move the man could have made.

“Uther, you will release him or else—"

“Or else what, Alined? You don’t want war with us. It’s just a servant’s son. You should be delighted that we are helping you.”

“Whatever you saw, I am certain that it wasn’t Tybalt,” Alined said once more.

“Then tell me who did it, and bring proof. If you can’t do that, then he will burn,” Uther said, without paying too much attention to the other king’s agitation.

Alined glared at Uther and left going back up the stairs. Arthur wondered if he would make Trickler take the fall or if he would plan something else. For all the misery this man had brought, as far as Arthur was concerned, this was certainly not the kind of retribution that would provide justice. That wasn’t how justice worked in his mind. “Father,” he said after several more minutes of incessantly bullying the child, who wasn’t speaking anymore but simply crying.

“What is it, Arthur.”

“In light of these serious events, and the upcoming feast, I have a confession to make. And I will take full responsibility whatever it may be.”

Uther turned to him and looked at him seriously, keeping the same authoritary face as he’d been using on Tybalt. “What is it, Arthur, speak up.”

“It was Sir Caridoc’s idea, really. He said that Merlin wasn’t performing well enough as my manservant, so I pulled a prank. I put the tiara into his pocket. I thought to teach him a lesson. Seeing as today’s events have taken a turn, I will need him to see me through the afternoon and prepare for the feast. It won’t do to keep him locked up.”

Uther shook his head. “Arthur, I don’t care about that. Let him out, do what you will. Make sure you attend the council meeting in full.”

“Yes, sire,” he said to his father and walked down to the dungeons. He told the guards that Merlin was to be released and they opened the gate to the hall where Gaius was locked up, and undid the large lock on Merlin’s cell.

An immense guilt fled over him as Merlin walked out of the cell only to see Tybalt being escorted into a nearby cell, loudly bawling. He winced when the heavy door locked behind the boy and the sound echoed cruelly through the cells. Already the guards were talking about the pyre of that night, and what a spectacle it would be to see a sorcerer child burn. The look Merlin gave him spelled something terrible. Arthur felt his mouth go dry. Merlin passed him without a word and left. Even Gaius passed him without so much as a second glance.

Everything was going horribly wrong.

  
***

Arthur reached Vivian’s chambers with a heavy heart. Gwen opened the door to him and he was surprised, until he remembered that Eda would be sleeping. “I’d like to speak to Lady Vivian, is she accepting visitors?”

“Let me ask.” Gwen closed the door and returned a moment later, opening the door wide for him. “You can come in.” She stopped him at the door with a hand on his arm. “What’s the matter? You’re upset?”

He sighed. “I am, but I will be alright, I think. I can’t talk about it.” She looked up at him with difficulty. He put a hand over hers for a moment and squeezed. “Thank you, Gwen. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot sometimes. Today is another one of those days.”

Vivian approached him from the other side of her room. She was wearing a light blue-gray dress the color of the sky and she had her regular condescending air around her again.

“I told you he is an idiot,” Vivian said to her.

“Will you give us a moment,” Arthur asked of Gwen.

“Is that allowed?” Gwen turned to Vivian.

“Everything is already sorted. I will call for you if I suppose I need you.”

Gwen sighed and left the room, but gave Arthur a kind smile as she did so. At least he hadn’t pushed her away entirely.

“Take a seat, Arthur. You look quite miserable.” She held out her hand to the table next to the window, and she took a seat opposite him. There was only a small table between them.

He felt dumbstruck for some time, before collecting himself and saying, “In honor of your stay here, we have chosen a gift for you. I say we, but it was my father who made the choice. Please accept this, as it is our honor to have you here.” He held out the small wooden box. She took it with both hands, and opened it. “I told him we should find something else—"

“It’s fantastic,” she interrupted him. She held out the tiara and looked at its refined detail. A small smile played around her lips as if it wasn’t a completely terrible insult, but in fact something she had longed for. “Thank you.”

He sighed and felt a weight drop off his shoulders.

She put it back into the box and closed it. “But that’s not really why you are here.”

“What?”

“Come now, no one comes to sit and talk to me except Morgana, and even her patience is running thin. Now what’s really on your mind?”

He gripped the armrests and leaned back. “My father is convinced that there is an evil sorcerer in this castle. And that the sorcerer is none other than the boy, Tybalt.”

She narrowed her eyes and he felt like she might know everything about him already. “And _you’re_ thinking your father is wrong.” It wasn’t a question.

“Nothing can sway my father’s mind. The boy will burn tonight,” was all he said.

“I understand why you’re upset,” she replied as she looked out the window, to the gray skies that threatened more snow. Inside everything was mild and warmed by fires, but the frost had gotten a firm grip on the land already.

“Listen,” he said, leaning forward. “I need to apologize. When you first arrived I was not a good host. And I should have been. I won’t make the excuse that your father is a scary man, though he is that for sure.”

“You’re talking nonsense. I presumed you were a spoiled idiot, don’t prove me right.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad that my mind isn’t clouded anymore. I can only imagine how bad it must have been for you.”

She stared at him long, without blinking. She seemed to be considering something and folded her hands onto her lap. “You have made a good choice.”

Arthur looked at the wooden box and lifted his hand. “I told you, it was my father who picked it.”

She rolled her eyes and said purposefully, “He is clever and kind.”

Arthur flinched and looked up at her in fright. He hadn’t expected anything of the sort and it took him a moment to recover. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said as lightheartedly as he could, and was quite pleased with what he managed to produce.

Vivian laughed at him. “I may be young and pretty, but I am certainly not a fool.” She smirked at her own ingenuity. “You know that I saw and heard everything. When you understood who it was that needed to free me from the charm, I saw the look you gave him. He set _you_ free. There is no denying it.”

While she spoke he felt his cheeks start to burn and he wished he could melt away into the chair or at the very least go open a window, or perhaps both at once. He leaned his elbow on the chair and held his forehead to avoid her looking at him. She knew someone would have had to undo the charm, and that Merlin fit all the bills. “I put him in a cell,” he said suddenly, he wasn’t even sure why he’d said it. His voice betrayed him by trembling.

“Then get him out of there, you are the Prince of Camelot are you not?”

“I did. He won’t look at me. And I’m not sure I blame him.”

“You didn’t look at _him_ for a day, and what did he do? Don’t sit here and tell me weak stories about how you are powerless. That is not who you are. At least I hope not, or I might be sorely mistaken in you.”

He snorted and dropped his arm. “I’m concerned about an innocent child being burned, that may be affecting me somewhat.”

“I have to say I cannot find fault in that,” she said smirking.

He stood up and bowed to her. “I must attend the council meeting.”

“Will you promise me to attend it as Prince of Camelot?”

“Yes, my lady. I promise.”

“One more thing,” she said before he had reached the door. She sat up straight and her look was sharp. “When you marry, because you must, make sure she is independent and just. She will need a great deal of respect to put up with you.”

He looked back uncomfortably and nodded. “I will remember your words,” he stated, and left.

  
***

Arthur entered the council chambers and saw that only Geoffrey, Birger, and his father were attending so far. He took an apple from the fruit bowl and sat down in his seat.

He had gone by his chambers first, to get changed into something more appropriate, only to find the room empty and the fire in the hearth small. The air was fresh and everything lay untouched since that morning. He could order Merlin to fix it up, but he didn’t have the heart to do so. If only he could have a moment to explain himself, but for all his usual bravado, today he felt like a coward.

The biggest problem was Tybalt’s execution. How could he face Merlin when the boy had been arrested instead of Trickler. How could he save a child whose guilt had seemingly been proven beyond a shadow of doubt.

“You look lost in thought,” Geoffrey said, taking the seat next to him and laying out a pile of documents before him.

“Have you found the missing book yet?” he asked.

“No, we have searched the boy’s belongings. He must have hidden it well.”

“How good are his letters? Can the boy read?”

“Why else would he steal a book?” Geoffrey said, with an annoyed shrug.

Arthur shook his head. None of it made sense. Everything was set in place for something convenient to happen, and perhaps his father knew what that was already, and perhaps Geoffrey did too. “Anything else I should be aware of?” he tested.

Geoffrey regarded him sourly and leaned over. “Uther suspects that he can lure out more sorcerers with his new trick. But don’t tell the others yet. I believe he plans to use it tomorrow, depending on how the execution goes. If anything disturbs it, he will know for sure.”

“Of course, it is a trap in itself,” Arthur agreed.

This time Geoffrey was pleased with him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Exactly.”

The other kings entered one by one and Olaf was visibly doing a lot better. He spoke to Godwyn in a pleasant tone and they even made some jokes. Rodor sat down opposite Arthur and gave him a curt nod. Arthur lifted his goblet towards him, though he hardly felt like applauding the man who had brought Savaric into the castle.

When Morgana entered, she looked impassive and resigned. Tybalt’s arrest had hit her hard. At last and with visible resignation Alined entered and took a seat quietly down at the end of the table. He seemed to be heavily conflicted about something and fidgeted in agitation with items lying on the table before him.

When the council meeting commenced and Holden sat down to take notes once more, it was opened by the pleasant news that Lady Vivian was fully recovered. Arthur noticed that his father thought this to be perfectly normal now that the sorcerer was captured. They started going over a very long list of all the latest news from the houses of nobility; latest marriages and new children who had been born into each household. They mentioned also the deaths of local lords or their wives, broken lineages, ruined houses, and potential knights who could serve or be exchanged between the kingdoms.

There was a fair amount of gossip going on, stories about bastard children and poor behavior. They spoke of lords in debt, and lords without any control over their local workers. They spoke about cruel behavior, utter stupidity, and one lord who had been caught in bed with the bard. It served as great amusement to the lords at the table and Arthur wasn’t quite certain how to take that. The only one who hadn’t laughed was Morgana. But then she hadn’t said anything at all that day.

They also discussed neighboring princesses which included Princess Mithian, Rodor’s daughter. Arthur noticed the very moment his father came up with the idea to invite her to meet Arthur and pre-emptively shuddered at the very thought.

Rodor leaned forward and spoke with some difficulty. “You know I also have a son, Erek.”

Godwyn put his goblet down. “My good friend, word goes he was born out of wedlock.”

Olaf shook his head at that.

“He was,” Rodor explained, “but I did marry the woman afterwards. He is my son and I am raising him as such. I aim to make him my heir on account of the validity of our marriage, and so that my daughter may be offered as a match.”

“The laws forbid it, Rodor,” Godwyn said. “I have not met your wife, and I’m sure she is very pleasant, but she is not born of noble stock.”

“She is my _wife_ ,” Rodor pushed.

“I’m afraid that the rules must persevere,” Uther said. “Even a marriage cannot make him lordly.”

Rodor was visibly very put out by this. “I shall announce him my heir and raise him to be more noble than the cheating, drunk, and idiotic lords that live scattered throughout our kingdoms.”

“You must be cautious,” Godwyn said. “We may not accept him or see him as our ally.”

“And was my father ever a prince?” Arthur put forward.

The kings turned to him in shock. Morgana gave him a small look of approval.

“Arthur, what—" Uther sputtered.

“My father conquered Camelot and took it from its former rulers. He was a lord, but he was not a prince. I’m certain your histories tell of similar tales. Your great grandfathers might have been Roman slaves, but you would not put that forward today.”

“My great grandfather was a Roman consul,” Rodor said in a huff. “That makes Erek the stock of the largest conquerors the world has ever seen!”

“Rodor,” Uther said with a pained face, “we cannot choose which children become part of our lineage. That is what lineages are for.”

Alined looked up at what Uther said and stood up slowly. Arthur thought in fright that Alined was going to say that Uther had bastard children too. He didn’t breathe, expecting mayhem.

“That’s right, we cannot choose our lineages. But I stand with Rodor today. The woman I married, the woman I buried, she was my great love. And she was carrying my child, only I never got to find out whether it was a boy or a girl.” He held a hand over his sigil and pushed away a hiccup. “What remains unsaid is that she had already given me a son, similarly out of wedlock.”

“You can’t be serious,” Uther declared, anticipating his revelation.

“Tybalt is my son. I want you to release him, Uther!” Alined put both of his hands on the table and gave Uther a glare that might have wilted many men. But not Arthur’s father.

“I will concede that according to the books, your late wife was noble, so you could claim him as your heir. However, witchcraft is a crime and this law does not bend for nobility. The boy is a sorcerer, and it is forbidden!” Uther all but growled.

Several voices broke out at once and within seconds they were all shouting at one another. Godwyn and Rodor also got to their feet and Uther was trying to get words in in between but even raising his voice did not work.

Arthur stood up as well and raised his goblet. It took everyone several moments for all attendants to realize the oddity of his pose and quiet down. Arthur held out his goblet to each king individually, before taking a drink and holding it up again. “We are converged here as the rulers of great lands, we are seated in this very room to be the examples of chivalry and nobility. Let us not fight like dogs on the street. Our families are dear to us, and this is the greatest virtue known to man. Heritage is extremely sensitive, it always has been. I don’t know what my father would do if I should perish in battle before I am crowned. Also, I don’t wish to know.” He pointedly looked at Alined.

“I know for a fact that you all bend the rules a little, when it suits you. None of you are entirely clean, but it would mean a great deal to me, and an even bigger deal to our peoples, if we can set ourselves to be the best example. Some people can strive for ideals.” He lifted his goblet at Olaf. “Others are generous.” He lifted his goblet at Godwyn. “And some raise children who are not their own.” He lifted his goblet at his father. “Are these not the very foundations upon which our kingdoms were formed? Does this not separate us from the barbarians that scour our borders? Tell me if I am wrong?

“I believe that whoever a king appoints as his heir should be their heir, to ensure that the norms and values we judge ourselves with are taught and followed. If a man can be raised into nobility or kingship, if an adopted son can be truly seen as a son, then the laws are in place as support and not as application. I put forward that heirdom, public as well as private, is the deed of a king.”

“Hear hear,” Rodor said and seated himself at last, and Alined nodded. Godwyn looked uncomfortable but nodded as well. Olaf was well pleased.

Uther got up and looked at Arthur with mixed emotions. “You speak well. But this still does not free Tybalt from the law that will not bend.”

Arthur regarded his father with a stoic expression. He knew his father bent some rules, but this was not something he would ever concede. Even attempting to offer to send the boy home would not work. The only thing he could do was agree, so he nodded. “I understand. Nevertheless, I should expect that King Alined is allowed to take some time to say goodbye and decide whether he will join the feast. I for one, will not.”

Uther barked a laugh in his face, with spit landing on Arthur’s chin. “What’s come over you, Arthur? You will certainly join the feast and watch the burning.”

While he knew that the boy’s pyre was simply a trap and might lure out Trickler yet, he also felt for Alined who was going to lose his son. Whatever happened, the boy would not survive it, and it wasn’t right because he hadn’t done anything.

“Fine. I will be there, after dinner, to watch the burning. Holden, have Merlin bring me dinner and arrange preparations. No one else.”

  
***

Arthur paced through his chambers and thought about what to do, and what to say to Merlin. What he had to do was obvious, and that was to get the boy to safety. However, the dungeons were heavily guarded and his father was anticipating a move. He was pretty certain that Alined was clever enough to expect Uther’s readiness. It was unlikely that Alined was going to make a move. Then again, it was also unlikely that the peace treaty would be signed if Alined’s son would burn.

He presumed that his father had singled out Deorham as the weakest kingdom, as its castle’s collapse had cost them a lot, and Alined was eager to see his finances restored. He had pressed for additional taxes, stressed in favor of transportation of certain materials if they were delved in Deorham, and argued each and every case that would see him wealthier by the end of it. And Uther smelled blood. He thought his father might be trying to overthrow Alined and take his kingdom for his own. Of course Rodor wouldn’t be pleased with that, and Odin even less—that foul king had already threatened Uther many times after Arthur had killed his son in a duel.

Even if there was some way he could save Tybalt, he wasn’t certain it was the right thing to do. It was right for Tybalt, but perhaps not for Alined. If he returned home with his son, word would travel fast. If Trickler would seek revenge anyone, including Uther, would potentially be in trouble. If Alined did not execute his revenge immediately, they might discover it later. Perhaps he would ally with Odin against Camelot.

At long last the door opened and Merlin walked in, a storm on his features, carrying Arthur’s dinner. He set the tray down onto the dining table dramatically loud and stood upright, waiting to be dismissed.

Arthur walked up to Merlin, closing in on him and did not falter from his gaze. “I need you to understand, I did what I had to do.”

“And what was that then? Throw me in jail, humiliate me?”

Merlin was talking to him, this was good. “Do you have _any_ idea what happened?”

“You’ve arrested Tybalt!” Merlin hissed.

“Tybalt is innocent!”

“So was I!”

“If you would just let me explain!” He almost leaned over Merlin, willing him to shut up so he could talk. But Merlin didn’t budge.

“I’m not sure I care to hear it,” Merlin spoke, when they were almost nose to nose. “Was this about last night?”

“No, you idiot, it was not about last night. I had something a _little_ bigger in mind. There was a trap set to draw out sorcerers and I couldn’t have you _connected_ to it.” He pointed with his finger at Merlin’s chest.

“What are you talking about?”

“That it was a blessing I could have you arrested so you wouldn’t trip it!”

“I’m not as _stupid_ as you think I am, Arthur.”

“I’m not saying you are, dammit! If you would just shut up I could tell you that the trap they set would draw our sorcerers _against their will_ , through sound, through music.”

“Is that what that was?” Merlin said with narrowed eyes.

“So you heard it?”

“What do you expect, of course I did! What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have told me about this, Arthur. You tossed me away!”

“I couldn’t have you cleverly talk yourself out of being arrested and going after this by yourself! It wasn’t safe!”

“Clearly you don’t _trust_ my abilities very much!” Merlin snapped and turned to leave.

“Who are _you_ to talk about trust?” Arthur retorted, pulling at Merlin’s sleeve..

“Is that why you didn’t tell me your plan? Because I won’t tell you everything?” He threw his hands in the air dramatically, pulling out of Arthur’s grasp. “Is that why?” He shook his head, turned around, and charged to the door.

“No, Merlin, it’s because Halig is back!”

The door slammed shut. Merlin was gone.

Then the door opened again, shut with a bang and a click while Merlin stormed back in, his eyes a golden blaze. Arthur felt a wave of air hit him and Merlin shouted, “What?!”

  
**\-----62 Merlin-----**

This time Arthur looked taken aback, Merlin noticed with satisfaction. This time he was affected by his words, rather than being a _damned_ cocky idiot.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Arthur said, but he didn’t approach Merlin this time. He gave him his own space.

Merlin circled him. “How do you know?”

“Because Halig is Lord Savaric the Bald, he’s cleaned up and dressing well, but it’s certainly him. I know it! And he’s after blood this time.”

“Why?” Merlin demanded. Thoughts about Freya crossed his mind. Poor Freya, who was caught by Halig and brought into the city to bring destruction upon its citizens. Poor Everilda too, how she had suffered at that man’s hands. If it really was Halig, then this would be Merlin’s chance to—no, he would not get revenge, it wasn’t his nature.

“Because my father pays him to. They were setting the trap in motion right away, I didn’t even have a _second_ to tell you! You could have trusted me.”

“When you pull that—"

“I’ve _finally_ got you!” Arthur interrupted him. “Do you think I would risk you being discovered like that? What if he had used it in the room, right where we were standing? How could you even think I could do that?”

“You could have said _something_ , given me a sign!” He wasn’t having it. Being left in that cold cell had hurt him terribly and it was simply unfair that Arthur was trying to work his way out.

“You know who was in the room, right? My father, Holden, and Halig. Any of them would jump at the chance to get something done about sorcerers, and they wouldn’t care if it was you. A few months ago, I would have told them to go ahead myself!”

“And what did you do, you locked me away, and you locked Gaius up too!”

This time Arthur walked up to him. “Don’t play the fool with me, Merlin. He was a sorcerer back in his day. He couldn’t very well trigger the trap. My father set it close to the workshop too. It would have been a disaster for Gaius!”

“Oh, you’re concerned for Gaius! Meanwhile I spent seven hours last night reading through books I’m not supposed to have, to find out that there’s nothing I can do. I know over _eleven hundred_ love spells now, Arthur. And then I get thrown into a cold cell!”

“I told Gaius to take care of you in there! I couldn’t very well explain it to him either! Do you have any idea how frightened I was that you might show up?”

He was hearing what Arthur did and why he did it. But his feelings weren’t registering it yet. He hadn’t felt that low for many years. And upon hearing Tybalt’s cries through the dungeons, something in him had broken.

When he had even heard the Great Dragon roar from within the caves under the castle, sad and confused, it had shaken him with a deep sadness. The dragon had been affected by whatever sound that was, and had rattled his chain and done _something_ to make Camelot tremble and shake. He stepped away from Arthur, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t see me or Gaius burn, but you would put Tybalt onto the pyre?”

“No! Dammit!” Arthur swore. “That’s what I called you here for. I need you to get him out, without any of the kings knowing or understanding.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know. Do whatever you can. But not until he is on the pyre, so that everyone thinks he got burned. It’s still a trap. Any moment before that, someone could still reveal themselves as the real sorcerer and that is beyond my power. You’ve got to try at least, Merlin. Will you help me?”

“You are saving Trickler’s son, after all the man did to you and Lady Vivian? He sentenced you to death with his enchantment!”

“But he’s not Trickler’s son, he’s Alined’s son.”

“What?”

“He told us at the council meeting.”

“No, Arthur, you’re wrong. Trickler has magic and Tybalt has magic. They look alike, they are related.”

“Tybalt is Alined’s heir, Merlin. He wants to save his boy.”

“No, you’re wrong! He’s trying to save Trickler’s son, for some reason. Perhaps Trickler has an evil hold over him, but he is most certainly not related to Alined.”

“How can you possibly tell?” Arthur barked.

“Because I know a thing or two, Arthur. I’ve examined many people together with Gaius, studied their traits. Trust me, Tybalt is Trickler’s son.”

“Regardless, if anyone should burn it’s Trickler, not an innocent boy!”

“Finally, something we agree on,” he said, and he surprised himself. Arthur, too, looked more relieved, and the line of his shoulders relaxed somewhat.

Arthur pushed up his sleeves and put his hands in his side. “Can you save him?”

“Perhaps. It will be very difficult,” he answered with a soft voice this time.

“Take him to The Crossroads, to Hilde. Hide him there with her. Take one of the new horses, that no one will identify on the road. I’ll have it prepared for a special errand, right outside the southern city gates.”

“Then what will you do with him?”

“Give him back to his father, and make demands.”

“A ransom?” Merlin shook his head, with a snarl of disgust on his lip.

“No, Merlin, for peace.”

Merlin looked at him in surprise and sighed. He nodded. Perhaps Arthur had given this a little more thought than Merlin had given him credit for. He had seen the prince stand up for the rights of people before, but never if those people or their families were sorcerers. He had never once seen anyone rescued from the pyres before.

He turned towards the door. The flow of air swished past him again, releasing their privacy. “I will do what I can.” He opened the door and without looking back he said, “Don’t look for me tonight.” And he left.

  
**\-----63 Arthur-----**

Arthur joined his father and the kings after he’d finished his dinner in his chambers, and he suffered the complaints that he hadn’t properly dressed for the occasion. He simply wore his thick brown jacket, as it was something he didn’t have to climb into.

They were standing on the balcony overlooking the royal courtyard and were being kept warm by several braziers burning brightly. The sun had just set and the night was a fade of clear blues, and deeply chilled. A good foot of snow crunched beneath the feet of the citizens who had gathered to spectate in the courtyard below.

“You should be more festive, Arthur,” Uther complained.

He turned to his father. “It’s not much of an occasion when illegal trade behind closed doors punishes an innocent child for the sins of someone who you know won’t show. I don’t see a reason to be festive.” _The man you traded with was banished, on top of it_.

“That child is hardly innocent,” his father argued. “Look at him, he is the essence of magic.”

The boy was being brought out to the stacks of wood, crying and shivering against his bonds. He was calling out for his father to help him. The guards threw him down roughly. The kid didn’t weigh a lot, so he hit the wood hard and yelped.

“The child will burn, father. But he did not do it, and you know that already.”

Uther did not respond.

“You are risking war with Deorham.”

“I am protecting the people of these lands by doing this. Now this is the last I will hear from you.”

Morgana stood some way away, wearing her thick fur coat and beside her stood Lady Vivian, looking on without blinking. She was wearing the tiara, he noticed. Arthur both admired and hated her for it simultaneously. She had dressed for the occasion after all.

Alined was standing inside; he was not going to watch. Trickler was nowhere to be found.

Halig stood on Arthur’s other side and was eyeing the crowds suspiciously. He was still dressed as Savaric, shaven, perfumed, and wearing similar colorful drabs that made him stand out bizarrely from the kings. Arthur tore his gaze away with disgust and looked at the crowds below instead, trying to find Merlin. He did not see him among the people who had come to watch the spectacle. Tybalt was now screaming, drawing all the attention until Uther spoke, and his voice filled the courtyard.

“May the execution of this sorcerer serve as a warning to all who aim to practice magic in our lands! It remains forbidden, and all who are exposed can expect a similar fate!” As his father spoke, Arthur spotted Merlin in the crowd. He was wearing a thick brown winter coat, with a hood that covered most of his face. But he knew that nose, that chin, and his lips. It couldn’t be anyone else.

His eyes shot towards Halig again, and he saw the man playing with the flute, casually rolling it around in his hands as he watched the people below. In a dreadful shot of terror, he suddenly feared he had inadvertently sentenced Merlin to death. If Halig would play the instrument now, Merlin and anyone else with magic would walk straight towards him.

The fires were lit and Tybalt’s screams of fear chilled the courtyard to something subzero which the icy winds could not even provide. The fire started licking up his legs and Arthur heard that beside him Morgana had started to cry. Vivian was moved, but there were no tears in her eyes.

The fires roared higher and suddenly there was a crackling explosion on the pyre. Arthur closed his eyes momentarily against the brightness of the light, and beside him many others did the same. When he looked back, there was a blackened figure against the pole, burning away and being consumed by fire.

 _No!_ Arthur thought. _It can’t be!_

Then he saw a figure with a large brown coat standing beneath a torch, right at the gate which led to the lower town. It was the same hood, but it was too far away for Arthur to see the man’s face. Besides, it was impossible that he could be that far away already. Then the figure stepped out and was gone from sight. The man’s gait looked like Merlin’s but Arthur only had a second to see.

Arthur waited for half an hour more until everyone was satisfied and had gone back inside on account of the deed being done. Alined came at last to stand beside him, and they regarded what was left of the pyre together.

He had to trust Merlin, now more than ever. Though he had no idea if it had worked. “When you depart, good king, stop at The Crossroads.”

“Why should I listen to anything you Pendragons say?” the man spat, sick with grief.

“Because while my relation to my father is real, I do not make every choice he does.”

Alined frowned at him and spat into the snow below.

Arthur regarded him evenly. “Oblige me this one request. I will not make another offer like it.”

  
**\-----64 Merlin-----**

Some time earlier, Merlin stood amongst the crowds, watching the pyre light up. It made him sick to his stomach to even consider what the boy was feeling right now, let alone what he would feel in a moment when he would climb up there. It was the last place in the world he thought he could stand to be. He had plugged his ears with cotton and wax which drowned out any sound, following Morgana’s advice. He was terrified that her vision might entail something about him, or that there was a specific reason she felt she needed to tell him her particular warning.

Merlin concentrated deep within himself and searched for the core of his magic. The people around him wouldn’t sense a thing, though they might think that the heat of the fire was slowly making the air thick and their heads dizzy. As Merlin pushed further, he summoned everything he had to his core. He had never done anything this large before. His power started to tingle along his skin and follow its own wishes to escape, but he restricted it tightly, waiting for the right moment.

At last the flames started to roar up around the boy, and his clothes had begun to catch fire. His flesh was still intact. Merlin lowered his head and pushed an old white mask onto his face. Then he lifted his hands towards his hood, and as he lowered it, he took a deep breath, concentrated and thought with fierce concentration, _Stop!_

Time froze and the fire was a bright glare, the burning embers hung in mid-air and the clouds that escaped from people’s mouths did not grow or blow away. There was no sound and it felt as if a blanket had covered the earth in silence, even with the cotton-wax in his ears he sensed the vast emptiness of tranquility around him. Everything was perfectly still. And cold, terribly cold, as if all the heat from the world had escaped. There was a pressure Merlin felt, for everything to start moving again, but he pushed it away as much as he could.

While holding his breath, Merlin moved forward and felt the snow crunch beneath his feet, though there was no sound now. He gently maneuvered himself past several people, careful not to touch anyone and exhaled slightly against his burning lungs when he stood in front of the tower of wood. It was more dreadful than he had imagined before.

There was no particular heat that came off it. Everything around him felt cold as a stone cave, unmoving as if each part had laid untouched for eons in the darkness. Everything just was, right there and held in place. When he put his hand through a flame, it hurt but not from heat, there was simply pain. The pressure of time was increasing again and Merlin’s lungs were starved for oxygen.

So he moved around the back of the pyre and undid Tybalt’s ropes, careful not to touch any more flames. He lifted the child out of the fires, puffing out small amounts of breaths. Tybalt was unmoving and his face was set in a gasp. While his lungs complained, he took out the carcass of a pig, which he tied back in the place of the child. It was dressed in one of his old shirts, and covered in herbs that could make fire burn brighter within seconds.

He felt the nudge of time at his heels and spun around, picked up the boy and sped down the pyre. He landed awkwardly on his knees and he ran across the courtyard to hide behind a stack of barrels and crates. He couldn’t hold his breath anymore, the stress of being chased by either the flow of time, or a swarm of guards shooting adrenaline through his system. He closed his eyes and allowed time to resume once more with a _Go!_

He gasped deeply for breath and the boy beside him was crying and gasping, and about to scream once more. When he noticed the masked figure beside him, his eyes grew wide and round. Merlin put a hand over his mouth. “Shh. Only if you’re quiet, I can help you out of this.”

Tybalt looked at him wide-eyed and not understanding.

“You have to trust me.” There was a large explosion behind them and the gasp and roar of the citizens, marveling at the spectacle. Some of them even laughed from the thrill. Merlin took the cotton-wax out of his ears.

Tybalt understood that he was somehow not burning anymore, and nodded.

“Okay, get up.” They got to their feet and so far, no guards had turned to look for them. Everything around him was dark and wet with snow, barely catching the light of the nearest sputtering torches. Merlin held out a small, thick cloak for him to wear, which Tybalt flung around his shoulders to keep the wicked cold out.

“You will have to hold your breath until I say you can let it go. This won’t be easy. You need to step in the footsteps of others. See there,” he pointed to where the snow had fallen and where the citizens had trotted it down. “Can you do that?”

“Yes, do I hold my breath now?”

“Yes.” Merlin concentrated deeply once more, pulling his energy towards himself and prepared for another burst of energy. The spectacle at the fire would last some time, but not enough for them to be safe here. He took a deep breath and saw how Tybalt followed his example. He gathered his magic around him, concentrated hard and thought _Stop!_ once more, pushing against the flow of time until it came to a halt and all the sounds drowned away. It was more difficult this time.

Merlin held Tybalt by the arm and they carefully sped down the flattened snow until they were on the far side of the courtyard, hiding in the door opening of the stables. Merlin had trouble seeing everything perfectly through his mask, but he was too afraid of being spotted. If anything happened, at least he could use this to escape and none would be the wiser.

He looked down at Tybalt who moved his mouth to try and speak. He shook his head, but it was too late. A puff of cloud came out of Tybalt’s mouth and Merlin quickly let time catch back up with him, thinking _Go!_ , before the boy wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.

Tybalt looked up at him curiously. “You have magic?”

“I do, and I’m saving you. Now you mustn’t talk while we’re running, otherwise I can’t help you,” Merlin said, with a kind voice. Whatever this revelation would bring, Merlin saw that Arthur had been right. Tybalt was not guilty of casting the enchantment. Though he did have magic, it probably wasn’t much yet. He was just a child after all.

“Where are we going?”

“To hide. I need you to hide, right behind those boxes, do you see them?” There was a stack of boxes and crates right on the outer side of the gate into the lower city. “We’re going to do the same thing again. Don’t speak until you know everything’s back to normal, okay?”

The boy nodded at him and stood ready to run. Merlin blinked and almost chuckled to himself. He concentrated once more, this time his magic was finding it harder to meet up with him. He was getting exhausted fast. It was something that had come natural to him, but only ever in small moments, and only ever a small area, when something was about to break or fall apart. He had never done it the other way around, that everything stopped except for him, or for him and one other person. They both took a deep breath and Merlin pushed against the moving flow of time, harder than before and told it, _Stop!_

It stopped again and they ran the full sprint down the pathway that led up to the gate, past the soldiers, careful to step only into footprints which were already there and without touching anyone or anything. Time was right at their heels and everything was deeply, deeply cold. Once Tybalt was out of the gate and hiding behind the boxes, Merlin stood under a torch. He couldn’t keep the push of time away any longer. It was too hard from him. He pushed his hood back up, let go with a slow exhale and allowed it to _Go!_ once more. He wanted to, he had to _allow_ it to go, instead of being taken over by it. He gasped for breath and looked back at the citadel as sounds and movement returned to their normal pace around him.

The crowds at the pyre were cheering, laughing, and talking festively. There were still several royals on the balcony, silhouetted against the light from inside. He couldn’t make them out. Considering the warning bells had not been rung yet, he felt confident that this part of their plan had gone well. Several of guards around the gate were mumbling about the drunken crowds, about the winds making them freeze their feet off, and one of them said something vulgar about taking a piss.

Merlin walked out of the city gates into the lower town and once there, he pulled what remained of his magic up. He stood beside the boxes and took a deep breath, loudly. He felt his magic shy away after being used so intensely and grit his teeth, pulling all his effort together to paused time again with a _Stop!_

This time Tybalt already understood what the deep silence meant. They hurried through the frigid, silent streets, where everyone and everything stood perfectly still, treading only in the flattened snow. Merlin pulled him into a side street shortly afterwards and everything start moving again before he even knew it. _Damn it!_ It was too hard to do. He felt exhausted, frozen, and started trembling.

Tybalt noticed and held out a hand to Merlin’s.

Merlin was moved by the level of trust. “Thank you, Tybalt.” It served to steady his resolve. “Who taught you to be this brave?”

“My father did,” Tybalt said.

“Remind me, who is your father again?”

He chuckled. “Trickler, of course.”

“That’s what I thought,” Merlin said. “Shhh, be quiet now.” Merlin pushed the boy down and ducked as a group of guards patrolled the city with a heavy clink of boots. He was glad they hadn’t gone straight down the path, or they would have been entirely blocked by the swarm of guards spanning the narrow streets.

“Why are you helping me? My father said you were all stupid and didn’t know what would happen to you.”

“Because we’re not stupid. And because I don’t think you did something bad. You didn’t, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. But maybe my father did.”

“I think so too,” Merlin said. “But let’s get you out of here first.”

“Are we not hiding?”

“We are, but somewhere with a hearth, food, and a bed.”

This made Tybalt very happy and they checked for guards before rushing down the street together, without using any more magic, simply hiding whenever they heard the heavy boots of a guard or a knight, treading along the cobble stones. After some time they finally reached the southern city gate and Merlin was relieved to find a saddled horse ready and waiting for him, tied to the old, wooden road-sign post.

He pulled Tybalt onto the horse, released the reigns and climbed up behind him.

“Before we go. You should tell me something. Do you have magic?”

“Only a small bit,” the boy said brightly. “But it’s a bit scary.”

“It shouldn’t have to be.”

“Maybe not. But it would mean I could help my father when he is in trouble…”

“Does he use it for bad or for good?”

“Mostly good. He makes funny things for me. After mom died…”

Merlin frowned. “You need to hold onto the saddle. Don’t let go, alright?”

The boy nodded to him.

The Sarmatian beast was ready to go, blowing hot air excitedly from its nostrils. They each pulled their coats closed against the icy winds and sped down the path, towards The Crossroads.

  
**\-----65 Arthur-----**

Arthur blew out the candle at his desk after completing his paperwork for the evening, including letters to his Uncle Agravaine and to King Darren. He would have them sent out at first light. Both letters contained very little real information and mostly contained a small prattle about the affairs in the kingdom and the death of Alined’s bastard son at the fire. He had hated writing both letters, but if Tybalt had really died it would be a truthful account, and if Merlin had saved him it would be a necessary account, to support the boy’s escape.

He had never been properly dressed for the feast, so he stood beside his screen and undid his belt and shoes. He would turn in by himself. It was very late and he certainly did not feel like talking to anyone anymore that evening. There was something he thought he was forgetting, but he pushed it from his mind.

There was an emptiness inside of him that threatened to take hold. His father was only mildly satisfied after burning the child and was out for more. He knew there was another plan for tomorrow, just not when or what. The only thing he knew for certain was that Uther would draw the real sorcerer out yet. And Arthur had to stop him. It was the first time he had ever considered fully sabotaging his father’s designs by going further than just disobeying his orders or going out of his way to save someone. He just had no idea how to do it.

He took some time turning down the bed and storing some of the pillows aside. He took off his necklace and mother’s ring and stored them in his wardrobe when the door suddenly burst open. He looked up in surprise to see Merlin storming in and shouting, “Where is my _bed_??”

Arthur felt his chest constrict. “Merlin! Did you do it? Is he safe?”

“I come back to find my room empty and my bed gone!”

“Oh that,” he said and chuckled. “Were you not informed?”

“And what am I supposed to do about sleeping?”

“Tell me if the boy is safe!” Arthur demanded.

“He’s with Hilde!”

Arthur felt relief flood over him. Merlin had gotten him out of there, somehow, he didn’t even understand how. “Don’t shout, Merlin. Someone might hear—"

“I don’t _care_. I was up all night reading, sat in a cold dungeon, then rode on horseback through snow and ice for several hours, and now I’m being _punished_?”

“What? No! You’re sleeping here.”

Merlin stared at him incredulously, his eyebrows lifted high.

Arthur sighed. He knew that whatever idyllic moment they had created, he had royally messed it up. He had hoped that getting Tybalt to freedom would have set the record straight. But Merlin wasn’t having any of it.

“After all of this, you—" Merlin began.

“It was brought forward on account of Gwen staying with Morgana. Holden needed another bed for a new guest.”

Merlin stepped forward then, even angrier. “You mean to tell me…. that _Halig_ is sleeping in _my bed_?”

Arthur frowned. He hadn’t made the connection until now and understood the cruel twist. When he’d heard the decision made that Merlin would stay with him, he thought it was the best possible plan, especially since Holden and his father had asked his explicit permission to arrange it this way. He had never given thought to who might occupy it. “I didn’t know…”

Merlin shook his head and moved towards the dining table, standing beside the fire to warm up. “You continue to take risks you don’t understand, what if I had something hidden under my bed?”

“I’m not playing games, I know how real this is!” Arthur shot back. He was losing his patience at Merlin’s incessant judgment of every move he made.

“Then you can’t keep making all these decisions on your own!” Merlin said.

“Well perhaps neither can _you_. If you haven’t noticed I’ve stopped asking you all the questions that go through my head! Like why did you not need words this afternoon when you stormed back into the room and did that—that thing!” He waved his hand in the air to indicate the wave of air. “I’m _trying_ to get it right and I’ll be damned if Halig will undo it all!”

Arthur was frightened of what else Halig might do. He was certain that the man was unhappy about his banishment and that it had cost him quite a lot of hard earned money to reinvent himself and to somehow obtain a magical item to return to the good favor of the kings he was used to serving. If payback was on his mind, he would not stop with Trickler.

Everything Merlin said and did struck him. He couldn’t recall when anything had moved him so much. And somehow he wasn’t getting any of it right. Why couldn’t Merlin see he was trying to protect him at every turn?

He was tired of trying to find new ways to explain himself, and took off his shirt to get ready to go to sleep. He was certain that Merlin would prefer to go and find another place for himself.

  
**\-----66 Merlin-----**

Merlin came to stand at the head of the dining table. “You think that just because you got _me_ to actually follow your orders—" Merlin stopped mid-sentence. Arthur had taken off the blue shirt he’d worn all day and thrown it over the folding screen. Two soft, pink nipples were staring at Merlin.

“You can’t do that,” he complained.

“Do what?”

“Start undressing while I’m yelling at you. It’s not fair.” He had entirely lost his train of thought and could hardly tear his eyes away. It was infuriating and intoxicating at once.

A sly grin tugged at the corner of Arthur’s lip at the declaration. “You’ve seen me undress before, _Mer_ lin.” Arthur regarded him and turned his way.

“Yes but—” _that was before we…_ Any of the words he had prepared, to tell Arthur a piece of his mind, were nowhere to be found. With each step Arthur had come closer, he felt the fight go out of him. He was left feeling drained, exhausted, and thoroughly captivated by the sight of Arthur advancing. It did things to his insides which were warm and pleasant, instead of offensive and rude.

Arthur had seen an opening, something which Merlin hadn’t wanted to offer, and taken it immediately. Recalling the last time they had stood here, kissing with the door unlocked, titillated his mind and gave him cravings for more. When Arthur cupped his cheek, he wasn’t sure he could yell at all anymore.

Arthur spoke, “Can you at least laugh at the fact that it was Holden’s idea to put you up here with me?”

He offered Arthur a look of sarcasm but didn’t reply.

Arthur grinned back, entirely undisturbed, it seemed. His thick thumb stroked over his cheekbone. “If you want to leave and find a different place to sleep then I won’t stop you. My offer still stands.”

He felt weary and spent. The warm room offered him everything he wanted. Arthur was not sick of him. Hadn’t cast him out. Quite the opposite, in fact. He pressed his lips together and fought the emotion welling up within him.

  
**\-----67 Arthur-----**

When Merlin started relaxing, hope had filled his heart once more. Perhaps they were not ruined. Perhaps there was something he could do to make things right again, to create that perfect place they had managed to establish together. Now, as he looked deeply into Merlin’s eyes, he saw how tears welled up again from want of rest, acceptance, and comfort. No wonder Merlin’s fuse was so short.

“Stop that,” he said softly, and untied his neck scarf, tossing it on the dining table. “Last time you slept in my bed we argued about Roslyn and you were crying. I don’t want anything like that tonight.” He leaned his forehead against Merlin’s and stared into his wide blue eyes with intent. Merlin bit his lip and frowned at Arthur through lidded eyes. He didn’t cry. He still hadn’t touched Arthur at all, but he leaned his forehead back against Arthur’s all the same.

With a sigh, Arthur recalled that night. He had laid him down to rest after similar exhaustion and had watched him sleep. When Merlin had awoken, he had first looked to the other side of the bed, where Arthur normally slept. It was only then that Arthur understood the significance of that gesture and something warmed inside of him. Merlin had looked for him.

There was another thing Arthur noticed from up close. Merlin smelled of hay and horses. “Clean up, Merlin,” he said, softly.

“What?” Merlin pulled his head back, affronted at being put to work.

“Get in the _tub_ ,” Arthur clarified and pointed at the tub in the corner, beside the hearth.

Merlin turned his head towards the large wooden basin, which was already filled with water. Arthur had asked for it to be brought up and filled the day before. But Merlin hadn’t shown up. It was still there.

“Get in _there_?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, you’ve had a long day.”

Merlin looked at it and Arthur studied how the tendons moved along his neck as he did so. “I’ve never been in a tub that large.”

Arthur blinked at him. He gaped for a moment and collected himself. “So, how do you actually wash?”

“Like _normal_ people, Arthur. With a bucket of water and a cloth. And if you’re lucky, a basin. Or if it’s warm, in the river.”

“So?” he said impatiently. “I said get in.” He pushed Merlin’s jacket off his shoulder and hung it over the back of a chair. For once, Merlin did not complain. He looked like he was actually contemplating the bath.

He walked over to the edge of it and dipped a hand in. “It’s cold,” he complained.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “For goodness sake, _Mer_ lin!” He stepped out of his way and walked over to the door to lock it for the night.

When Merlin was given some more space, he actually followed his advice and undressed. Merlin kept his back to Arthur and stepped into the now-steaming tub with his long, slender legs, which seemed to go on forever. Arthur watched with intrigue, taking in all the shapes the fire cast on his skin and tried, without success, to see any of the bits he was particularly interested in. The tease of it ignited something within him that wanted to push for more.

Merlin sat in the middle of the tub, hugging his knees which stuck out of the water. He looked like he was waiting for the order to get out again. Arthur shook his head and gathered several towels before turning to the tub. He stripped out of his breeches and sat down, naked, on a large towel which he’d placed behind the bath, on his knees. He poured a mix of various herbs like camomile, mallow, and brown fennel and added them to the bath water.

With one of the smaller towels he started to scrub Merlin’s back for him. The water felt warm and comfortable and steam rose from the surface. Arthur dunked the cloth into it several times and stroked up and down over Merlin’s neck and over the back of his shoulders. He observed as much of him as he could, studying his form and making discoveries of muscles, tendons, and moles, like the one halfway down his back. He marked everything down in his mind, including the moment Merlin became more relaxed and let out a sigh.

Arthur felt victorious and put the towel aside. He had somehow managed to get him to stop fighting him, to stop resisting. “Lean back,” he said and pulled lightly at Merlin’s shoulders. “I’ll wash your hair.”

Arthur climbed up onto his knees and with one of his hands he held on to Merlin’s neck, so that he could lie back without submerging. With his free hand he cupped warm water and poured it over Merlin’s hair, then stroked his fingers through his dark, thick locks to get the dirt and grime out. For some time, Merlin’s hair resisted, returning to its original form, until Arthur’s fingers won over and his hair succumbed to cleaning. It was much the same resistance as Merlin had shown him, Arthur mused to himself.

For some time Merlin held his eyes closed and his arms loosened around his knees, floating freely in the water. He swelled with delight to watch Merlin relax under his hands at last, massaging the final resistance away with his fingers on Merlin’s scalp while occasionally trying to see more of his body, his slender, gangly form unfurling gradually under Arthur’s ministrations. Just from seeing this much of Merlin’s skin, he felt the blood flowing to make him hard and ideas started to swim in his mind.

He noticed that Merlin was looking up to him with curious blue eyes. He only then realized he’d stopped massaging his head.

“Is this your way of apologizing?” Merlin asked in a lazy tone. His voice was deep and relaxed.

Arthur leaned his free arm over the edge of the tub and looked down at him. His hand found Merlin’s shoulder and he pressed a forefinger to the skin there, stroking gently in small circles. “No, it isn’t. If I need to throw you in jail a hundred times to keep you safe, I would do it each and every time,” he clarified, stubbornly.

Merlin looked up to him fiercely but didn’t reply.

“I won’t risk losing you. You can’t ever ask that of me,” he said.

“You won’t…” Merlin began, with a croaking voice.

“You don’t get it,” Arthur said, stroking Merlin’s shoulder with four fingers, drawing circles on wet skin. “You can’t possibly know what it’s like, but I had already abandoned the idea that I could ever have anything like this in my life. If this was to be the sacrifice to rule a kingdom, so be it.” He sighed. “This, taking care of you, washing your hair… I’ve wanted something like this. I knew I would grow up and follow my father’s ways and never have any part of the life I wanted for myself.”

Merlin sat upright again in the tub and turned to look at him with a sarcastic lift of an eyebrow, his lips pursed.

“Okay, you _can_ imagine that.” He leaned his arms on the edge of the the tub and grinned.

Merlin chuckled lightly and leaned back against the edge of the tub. His head came to rest against Arthur’s left arm, leaning against his chest, wet and dripping. It was a peace offering if Arthur ever saw one and he felt his heart skip a beat. There was no end to his wanting this, wanting Merlin, all of him.

He pushed up against the side of the tub, offering himself as pillow and stroked Merlin’s shoulder some more. Sensing no objection he stroked lower, dipping his hands into the water again and followed the shape of his lean muscles over his slender chest. His fingers found a soft nipple and he played with it. Merlin tilted his head back with parted lips and gasped. It was enough to make Arthur rock hard instantly.

He leaned forward to kiss Merlin but wasn’t quite at the right angle for it. So instead he kissed his wet hair, his ear, and down into his neck, which Merlin exposed to him in an alluring tilt of his head, revealing pale skin for Arthur’s lips to abuse. A deep, rolling groan escaped his throat as he looked down into the water and saw that Merlin was as hard as he was.

He let go of Merlin’s abused nipple and reached out his arm to touch Merlin’s knee, dipping down and stroking along his inner thigh, down towards his erection, pushing Merlin’s legs apart. Merlin complied and his legs relaxed in the water, offering Arthur access. Just before his fingers could envelope Merlin’s cock, Merlin’s hand reached up out of the water and touched Arthur’s lips. Arthur stilled and waited to see if he would be pushed away.

Merlin’s hand was wet with warm bath water, which dripped down over Arthur’s chin. Arthur looked over to him and saw that Merlin was staring back heatedly from heavy lidded eyes, his full lips parted enticingly. One of Merlin’s wet fingers pressed against his lips, pushing between them. When Arthur opened his mouth, the finger swiftly pushed in and invaded his mouth.

Finally grasping what Merlin wanted, he accepted the finger, closed his lips around it and sucked. His fingers folded around Merlin’s cock at last and stroked in slow long pulls. Merlin became undone in small gasps, writhing beneath Arthur’s touch and pushing and pulling his finger in and out of Arthur’s mouth. Water sloshed around in the tub and spilled over the edges.

A hot, carnal urgency was building up within Arthur and he needed to get into action. His burning erection demanded to be touched, rubbed, used. But right now, giving Merlin pleasure, pumping and sucking, watching him close his eyes and start to frown in heightened desire, and hearing him moan aloud, occupied all his senses.

Merlin stilled Arthur’s hand suddenly and he let go. Merlin pulled his finger back out and pushed himself upright in the tub. “Arthur…” His honest blue eyes pleaded.

“What is it?” Arthur asked, encouraging.

“Are we going to be alright?”

“Of course, how could you even doubt that?”

Merlin regarded him and seemed to be searching for words. All that Merlin needed spilled out of his gaze, and was readable from the blush across his cheekbones and the needy set of his brow.

Arthur felt bold and pushed his hand through the water, reaching down and enveloped Merlin’s balls, gently stroking in the way that he knew he enjoyed. As it turned out, Merlin enjoyed it too; whatever he had been about to say died in his throat, and instead Merlin reached up to pull him down for a deep, frantic kiss.

Arthur answered him passionately and devoured his lips. When Merlin struggled to move in the tub, his balls still being sweetly manhandled, quite some water spilled over the tub’s edge and Merlin broke away. He started getting up and Arthur offered him some room, stroking himself with his wet hand a few times to take the edge off.

Merlin climbed out of the tub and reached for a towel. His cock was hard, and he was no longer shy and, more importantly, no longer upset. Arthur snagged the towel out of his hand and knelt down in front of him, looking up with hopeful eyes. Merlin’s body shone with droplets that were dripping down him and revealed all his shapes and angles in the light of the fire.

When Merlin reached a hand into his hair and pulled him closer, Arthur took it as confirmation. He grabbed onto Merlin’s still-wet thighs and took his glistening cock into his mouth, _at last_ , and reveled at the soft, stuttering yelp that came out of Merlin’s throat.

He tasted the clean skin over Merlin’s cock and pushed it back with his lips. One of his hands stole down to his own erection, giving himself a minimal pull. Every move he made, enticed new sounds from the other, sighs, whimpers, and moans, and he felt the fingers in his hair grip tighter. He studied the feeling of Merlin’s tip against his lips, against his tongue. He tried to take him all, until the coarse, dark pubes tickled his upper lip and his cockhead pressed against the back of his throat as far as he could take it. Merlin let out a long sigh of pleasure, which thrilled him further.

He looked up to see Merlin’s blue eyes staring down at him in rapture and awe. Arthur’s free hand reached up to hold his side, thumbing over a sharp hipbone. He bobbed his head up and down watching Merlin whimper in response. Arthur noticed that his legs were unstable, and he knew that Merlin was exhausted. He gently let go and stood up, offering Merlin back his towel.

Merlin accepted the towel and looked at him uncertainly. “Dry yourself, then come lie down,” Arthur offered. Merlin’s gaze stole over his body, which made Arthur feel rather proud of himself.

“Okay,” Merlin said, stifling a yawn. He dried himself off quickly, and absentmindedly ruffled the towel over his hair a few times before climbing onto the large four poster bed.

Arthur noticed that Merlin laid down on the right side, where Arthur normally never slept. Merlin was beyond exhausted, but reached out a hand. Arthur climbed over him and kissed him, gently, not pushing for anything. He laid down so their bodies touched. Their cocks rubbed together deliciously. He pressed his body down on Merlin’s, holding him there so he wouldn’t leave. Knowing that Merlin would stay there and sleep there, left him breathless.

When Merlin’s legs spread apart further and Arthur ended up in between, he could add more friction and he rolled his hips with need. He pressed his lips to Merlin’s, kissing him softly, deeply, experimenting and discovering everything, each sound he made, anything that made him gasp and writhe beneath his touch. He turned his attention to placing kisses down Merlin’s chest and aimed to continue his earlier ministrations. Merlin pulled on his chin, and said, “Wait, Arthur…”

“I want to do what you did for me,” he clarified. He leaned over Merlin on his hands and stared down at him intently.

“Not tonight. I’m sore from riding.”

Arthur lowered his head momentarily and acknowledged that further exploring Merlin’s body would have to happen another time. “Fine, then what do you want?” He looked at Merlin somewhat uncertainly.

Then he gasped when Merlin reached down and took both of their cocks into his hand at once. Merlin threw his head back against the pillow and started jerking them off together. Arthur thrust his hips into the welcome friction and looked down at how their cocks met and rubbed in and out of the tight grip of fingers.

Two fingers of Merlin’s other hand pushed into his mouth again and he accepted them, without hesitation this time, sucking on them each time they thrust in and out. Merlin’s fingers ravaged his mouth with increasing speed as they built up a rhythm together. Arthur was overcome with desire as pleasure built inside of him, and with his last coherent thought he reached down at Merlin’s chest and pulled once more on one of his nipples, harder than before. At last Merlin came with a sputtering cry, gripping tightly around them, and Arthur followed soon after, pushed to the edge by watching Merlin’s whole body jerk and his face contort with pleasure.

Spent, Merlin released them and laid back on the pillow. He was asleep in seconds. Even when Arthur cleaned the come off his chest with a damp towel, he wouldn’t be roused. By the time Arthur had put out the candles and returned to climb into the bed, he could hear faint snoring and smiled to himself.

He stayed up for some time and watched him, as he had done weeks ago, studying his features as he rested; the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his small frown slowly relaxing completely, and he imagined the way his still-damp hair would probably stick up in different directions the following morning. He let out a sigh. Merlin was _there_ with him, in his bed, and what they had begun together wasn’t destroyed. He finally allowed himself to feel relieved and sentimental.

They weren’t out of the water yet, though. Halig was still there and no doubt plotting his next move. Arthur started to put together a plan.

  
**\-----68 Merlin-----**

When Merlin opened his eyes he saw Arthur sleeping beside him. With a shock he remembered where he was.

He shot upright. “Did I miss the summons?”

Arthur turned around and without ceremony dragged him back down again, mumbling something about it being the middle of the night. Merlin laid back and saw that it wasn’t light yet. The time to dress Arthur was a long while away.

He yawned and turned around, feeling Arthur drowsily pluck and pull at him until they were spooning, and Arthur was neatly folded around Merlin’s back with his right arm lying heavily across Merlin’s waist. Only then did he quickly succumb to sleep again, feeling warm and safe.

He woke again hours later, half sprawled over Arthur who was propped up against several pillows and had Merlin’s arm pulled across him. Arthur was stroking the tips of his fingers up and down the skin of Merlin’s arm, lost in thought. It took Merlin a long time to get the cloud out of his head, but when he did and looked up, Arthur was smiling down at him.

Merlin thought it couldn’t be possible, to wake up to this. Surely he was somehow still asleep in that cell, or he might have fallen down from the horse on his way to The Crossroads and was delirious. Surely he wasn’t lying in Arthur’s bed, naked, with Arthur, also naked, and being _held_ as if he was precious. And yet, Arthur had fought for him, fought to convince him that this made sense. Somewhere deep in his core he knew that it did, and it was perfect.

Arthur read the doubt on his face and lifted his eyebrows. “Are you alright with this?” He was still pushing his fingertips up and down the skin of Merlin’s arm, which put Merlin in some kind of hypnotic stupor.

He tilted his head to look up to him properly. All he could bring out was, “Mrhmm?”

“With your station, I mean,” Arthur clarified.

This time Merlin pushed sleep from his mind and stretched. “Yes, all I ever wish is to serve you.”

“I don’t see you as a servant,” he replied. “Not anymore.”

For a moment Merlin didn’t know what to say. If Arthur thought him an equal, then that would change a lot. But change would be noticed. “You should, for now. It’s the only way I can remain by your side,” he all but whispered.

Arthur leaned back and stared, lost in thought again. Merlin wondered how long they could lie like this without being disturbed. The door was still locked, and the summons would only be for dressing, which would be pointless with Merlin already in the room. The dawn was still dark and it was unlikely that either of them would be needed for some time.

The air outside the blankets was fresh, so Merlin disentangled himself, turned around, swept several logs onto the fire from a distance and gave the hearth a boost. He flopped back down, finding a spot of soft muscle on Arthur’s shoulders which perfectly cradled his head. Their shared silence and skin contact were a bliss Merlin had rarely experienced, and certainly not with anyone he loved so deeply. He was pretty certain by now that Arthur had never had this either.

“Did you… I mean, have you ever fancied any of the knights?” Merlin asked him.

Arthur looked surprised but not affronted. “No. But then I don’t think we have a particularly good looking bunch to go around. Why?”

Merlin shrugged. “When we went hunting last…”

A hand came up around his shoulder and stroked his hair. Merlin was relieved because it meant that Arthur wasn’t upset at him prying. After some time Arthur answered him.

“There was a squire once, three years ago.”

A thought struck him. “Summer training camp…?”

“I thought I told you to forget that I had said any of that.” Arthur smirked.

“I forgot to forget.” Merlin grinned back. “What happened?”

A difficult look crossed Arthur’s features and he took a few moments to answer. “There was a skirmish about a week later. He died in a battle.” Arthur’s fingers still combed through Merlin’s hair absentmindedly.

“You’ve never sought anyone out since?”

“Let’s just say it’s fortunate that I am being kept very busy. I put it from my mind.”

Merlin thought back to his time at Camelot, rethinking the things Arthur did and said, or the way he reacted or looked at people. He might have continued to serve him, never truly knowing about his inclination. Although there might have been moments…

“What about you?” Arthur asked.

“What about what?”

“You do look at the knights, I’ve seen you.”

Merlin bit his lip. He had no idea when Arthur had figured that out. He grinned and said, “Yes. I’m sleeping with one, actually.”

Arthur shot him a dubious glance.

“Turns out he’s a real clotpole,” Merlin said, beaming.

Arthur made an indignant sound and wrestled him for some time, until he had one of Merlin’s arms in a vice grip and the other was propped up between them. They were both grinning.

“I thought I told you never to call me that again,” Arthur declared.

“Who says I meant you?” Merlin teased.

Their legs were entangled sweetly and Merlin felt how Arthur was beginning to respond. Slowly, Arthur let his arms go, but stayed where he was. Merlin lifted one leg over Arthur’s to keep him there.

“I don’t intend to share,” Arthur declared possessively at last.

Merlin stared up at him and felt wistful, many memories flooding him at once. Everything that his mother told him, Gaius, the Great Dragon, and even the Lady of the Lake. “I’ve been looking all my life, but I never really knew what for... until I met you.”

“Surely not right when you met me? I was a bit of a…”

“A prat?” Merlin offered helpfully.

“Watch it!”

“A royal prat?” He felt delirious at the memory, so far away from where they were now.

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin.”

Merlin laughed and reached his arms out, leaning up to kiss him. He would slip back into his servant role soon enough. This blissful moment was all theirs to enjoy. And he was coming to terms with the fact that it was real.

Arthur responded hungrily, seemingly insatiable as he kissed back until they were both breathless and nearly molten into one another. Merlin felt a heat rousing as his cock responded. It was Arthur who pulled back from the kiss and sighed.

“Merlin, we shouldn’t. We have to talk… before anything happens today.” He leaned back, and and seemed conflicted doing so, his hands pulling at Merlin’s leg so they would remain entwined at least. “Tell me, what happened last night? How did you do it?”

Merlin curled himself around Arthur, feeling giddy with delight and anticipation. He swallowed his need away and tried to shake the thoughts of having some more private time with Arthur to something they could enjoy later. “I stopped time.”

“What? How do you mean?”

Merlin stared at Arthur’s inquisitive eyes and considered. “It’s hard to explain.”

“You can’t tell me?”

“That’s not it.”

“Can you show me?”

Merlin looked around the room and bit his lip. “I can only show you the reverse. It’s too difficult.” He extracted a hand from the blankets, feeling the fresh air ripple across his skin and aimed towards the hearth. Arthur followed his gaze. The fire was pleasantly crackling away. Merlin concentrated on it and gathered the deep magic within him and told it to _Stop!_

Arthur sat up and looked at it with some difficulty. He wasn’t entirely certain what he was seeing. The flames hung still in the air and though the wood glowed, there was no-longer the pleasant gushing sound of the air escaping into the chimney, nor the quiet crackle of consumption of the wood blocks.

“So, you stopped the fire?”

“I stopped the fire, and everything else. And I took Tybalt out of there, in the time between.”

Arthur looked at him with wonder, studying his face as was becoming his habit. Merlin blushed in the long silence and looked down. He wasn’t really supposed to share this with Arthur to begin with. Telling him was supposed to feel wrong, but it didn’t. He shook away his final apprehension and allowed the fire to move again with a _Go!_ It was far less difficult than stopping the whole world and moving through the moments in between.

“How do you do that without words?” Arthur asked.

Merlin licked his lips and felt himself smile lightly. “The more I perform a spell, the less effort it takes me to recreate it. Some types of magic are more instinctive. I was moving objects before I could talk…”

He saw Arthur contemplate this, wondering how it might be used in the light of current events. Halig was posing as Sir Savaric the Bald and was a danger to him, and to Gaius. Even to Morgana, though Arthur couldn’t know about that. And he wasn’t certain yet if he should be concerned about Trickler and where his allegiance lay, and whether or not he was a danger.

Arthur regarded him curiously. “How was the new horse?”

Merlin grinned. “It was a marvellous beast. Faster than the ones we have, sturdier.”

It peaked Arthur’s interest. “We should address the situation in the stables to my father…”

Lost in thought, Merlin reached a hand up to Arthur’s chin and stroked it with his fingertips. “You really need a shave.”

“Tomorrow. We’ve got more important things to think about,” Arthur said at last. “We have to tell Gaius about the Nine Whistles and what it does. Perhaps he knows what we could do about it.”

Merlin nodded quietly. His hand slid over Arthur’s chest, stroking and exploring. “I was going to talk to him anyway.”

“I’m coming along, Merlin. You don’t have all the facts this time.”

Merlin touched Arthur’s collarbones and looked up at him, pursing his lips. “Gaius will have trouble talking about magic with you, you understand—"

“That needs to change, Merlin. I’m already aware that he knows about you.”

Abruptly, Merlin pulled his hand back and sat upright. “What? No.”

“I realize you don’t want me to be aware of it. But I figured it out. He tells you to be careful all the time. He even went on about your carelessness yesterday when I brought him down to the dungeons. Besides, you never once complained that I had locked him up with you because he might have become aware of your abilities. If anyone would have shared this with you, it would be a former sorcerer. It makes perfect sense.”

Merlin turned away from Arthur and clenched a fist. He couldn’t deal with it. Gaius and Arthur both knew about his magic. Gaius was aware that Arthur knew. Now Arthur knew about Gaius. At least he thought he did. It made Gaius an enemy to the crown, to Camelot. Why couldn’t Arthur understand how dangerous it was?

“Merlin—"

“No. No, listen Arthur. I can handle things like this. I have, for a long time.”

Arthur sat up as well. “No, you listen. Not when you risk getting caught. Even if you know how to escape, you would be banished. Maybe I’m being selfish, but I’m also pretty sure this is where you should be, where you _ought_ to be.”

Merlin shook his head. Arthur was using his own arguments against him. It wasn’t fair. Everything Arthur was risking was larger than him. Then again, Merlin’s very purpose was to be there to protect him. In this case, Merlin needed protection, that much was becoming clear. There wasn’t anyone else he could ask.

Arthur stroked a hand down Merlin’s naked back, all the way down to his side. His blond hair was tousled and his jaw was squarely set. He kissed his shoulder and looked up at Merlin and said, “I need you. I can’t do this alone.”

Merlin pushed Arthur back and climbed on top of him, pushing the prince back down onto his bed and held him there. Arthur’s bright blue eyes stared up at him in determination. He wasn’t going to let this go, Merlin knew it already. “Those were my words,” he complained and he kissed Arthur for stealing them from his mouth.

Arthur grabbed onto him, greedy hands digging into his flesh and pulled him against him. They kissed deeply, their tongues wrestled as Merlin put everything into it.

Merlin held him down, thrusting against Arthur needily with his hips, hands roaming over his chest and grabbing onto his pecs, then up and down over his strong arms.

Arthur looked up at him with dark, passionate eyes. “I want to do what you did to me. Can I?”

Merlin was awash with desire, thrusting his hips once more, rubbing his erection forcefully against Arthur’s cock. “Yes,” he said. It seemed to be something Arthur was really looking forward to. He leaned down to kiss him and pulled back after a light touch of their lips. “Yes,” he said again. Merlin regarded him with resolve, and put his forehead against Arthur’s. “Yes…” he sighed at last, fully submitting and relaxing in Arthur’s grip.

With a strong arm, Arthur lifted Merlin and rolled him over, laying him back down on the bed as if it was no effort at all. He spread Merlin’s legs gently and dipped in between. “If I make a mistake—" he began.

“You won’t. God, if you had any idea what you do to me,” Merlin sighed. He reached over to where he knew the muscle salve was stored and only used the smallest amount of magic to wordlessly summon it to his hand. He offered it to Arthur without explanation. The sideways grin on the prince’s face revealed that he had an idea of how to use it.

Merlin laid back and let Arthur grab a hold of his cock with his hand and with his mouth, and experiment with it as he wanted. He delighted in being used like that and found that whenever he sighed or moaned loudly, Arthur would continue to do what he was doing for a while longer. His mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was soft. And when he went down on him completely, Merlin was ecstatic. In all his fantasies, he had never even dared to dream that Arthur would enjoy doing this. And it felt better than anything his daydreams had managed to create.

At last Arthur pulled back and opened the small jar, and shortly afterwards Merlin felt a finger down between his cheeks. Arthur was looking at what he did with as much concentration as learning a new combat move, or plotting against the latest tactics of one of Camelot’s enemies. As the finger pressed against his opening, Merlin shifted a moment and tried to relax, to let it in. Arthur was gentle and waited, pressing only lightly before sliding the tip of his finger inside.

Merlin writhed and spread his legs further which only encouraged Arthur to push forward and deeper. Watching Arthur’s delighted fascination in what he was doing, fueled his fire. The finger in his hole wiggled and Merlin almost laughed, taking a moment to show Arthur the movement that worked best. He showed the example with two fingers and promptly felt a second one being pushed inside. He moaned and trembled, doing his best to relax against the invasion. He knew how, but it had been a long time.

Bold and obnoxious as usual, Arthur soon went for a third and moved his fingers in and out with determined force, nearly pushing him to the edge. He looked at Merlin in rapture and leaned back over him, licking along his cock, starting at the base and slowly, experimentally moving up to the tip. The image was too much, and Merlin bucked suddenly, gasping. He stroked fingers through Arthur’s hair, and reveled at the renewed attention on his cock.

“Not good?” Arthur asked. He pulled his fingers out.

“Kiss me,” Merlin pleaded. Arthur spent no time delaying, climbed back up, and locked his lips to Merlin’s. At the same time, Merlin lowered his hand, pushing between their bodies to grab Arthur’s neglected cock and guided it down.

Arthur stilled and his eyes flew open.

Merlin held him there to make his point, hoping that Arthur would take over.

Arthur’s voice came out in a hoarse stutter. “Are you sure?”

“Do it, I want you to,” he whispered back. He reached out and stuffed one of the decorative pillows underneath his hips for a better position and laid back, waiting.

Arthur’s need was visible in his eyes. He took his time, looking over every part of Merlin’s body before positioning himself. Merlin spread his legs further, to accentuate the point, and lowered his hand to stroke his own erection. Arthur was beautiful, bathed in the morning light which cut across his sharp features and highlighted the hollow of his cheek and the pout of his lips. Merlin was more than ready. By the time Arthur’s tip was back against his hole, a deep growling moan escaped the prince’s throat, and his broad body looked like it was trembling.

It wasn’t easy, despite the preparation. Arthur pushed slowly and each time Merlin so much as twitched or winced, he stopped. And each time, Merlin encouraged him, telling him he was fine. He felt like he was being split in two, the pain ebbing when he relaxed, until at last he felt completely full. Arthur had pushed himself completely in and stayed here, holding on to Merlin’s hip with one hand and leaning on the other. Merlin saw the strain across the muscles in his arms and chest. Arthur’s face was set in a torturous bliss and Merlin felt his cock twitching inside of him.

“All right, Merlin?” the prince asked.

Merlin grinned despite himself. He folded a leg around Arthur’s waist, and guided the hand that gripped forcefully onto his hip, to take hold of his cock. He wanted Arthur to stroke him and motioned his hand to do just that with his own fingers over Arthur’s. Arthur still hadn’t moved from his position, sheathed deep inside of Merlin and trying to make sense of the world, without losing himself. What Merlin was doing clearly wasn’t helping.

“Ugh, I can’t. I’m going to…” he complained. He was a wreck, torn between giving Merlin all he wanted to give, and taking from him everything he wanted for himself.

“Move, please, just move,” Merlin begged in a gasp.

Arthur began to stroke Merlin’s length, jerking him off and moved his hips. He found a rhythm, as he would a new exercise at the training field and slowly, with heavy concentration, built up a motion. Merlin breathed heavily, relishing in the sensation of the firm grasp over his cock, while being filled up. He moved his hips in the same rocking motion as Arthur’s, feeling how the prince slid in and out of him with more ease each time.

It wasn’t long before Arthur’s concentration gave way to pure need. His hips pumped sweetly as his own pleasure guided him and with a small shift of Merlin’s hips, pressed against that sweet spot inside. In a suddenly soaring wave of pleasure, Merlin came and cried out, spilling all over his belly. He felt Arthur’s hips stutter against his arse and heard him groan his name.

They lay panting and Merlin held onto Arthur as if he would never let go again. It was warm, dirty, sweet, and perfect. At last Arthur let go of him and pulled out, and they were both a mess.

“Keep still,” Merlin urged and his eyes shone for several seconds before the come disappeared.

“How did you—no, never mind. I don’t even want to know where you learned that. You didn’t use words, that tells me enough.”

Merlin sat up gingerly, running a hand absently through his hair. “Face it, some sorcerers were geniuses.”

They both chuckled, basking in the aftermath of something new, something deep. They weren’t quite ready to address it yet, but it was good. They were good. Merlin promised himself quietly that he would never let anything get between them again.

  
**\-----69 Arthur-----**

After ordering a double breakfast at the kitchens and sharing it with Merlin—this was one of the perks of having him wake up in his room with him after all, though obviously not his favorite one—he strode through the corridors towards the physician’s workshop. Merlin was by his side, and carried himself as if he was walking on air.

He had known that Merlin would be apprehensive. He had noticed acutely when Merlin hadn’t been upset at being locked up specifically with _Gaius_ as much as being locked up in the first place. It had told him everything he suspected. And it was good, and even better than he expected. Gaius was extremely loyal to his father, but if he had protected Merlin all this time, Arthur was pretty certain they could get him on their side. They would need him.

As they walked side by side Arthur was filled with giddy love. He was apprehensive about the tasks that would come, but he was certain that if they faced them together they could overcome whatever crossed their path. Merlin would stand by his side through anything, he was certain. The way he had given himself so completely to him that morning, it was more than he had ever expected. He felt triumphant.

“Prince Arthur?”

He stopped in his tracks and turned around to see Holden emerge from a corridor with several coats piled over his arms.

“You are cordially invited to join your father on the hunting trip arranged this morning for himself and the kings.” He hoisted the heavy coats on his arms a little higher.

Arthur knew what an invitation meant, he would be forced to attend on pain of death. “When are they riding out?”

“At once, sire.”

“I am on business, if they can wait an hour, I will attend them.” He glanced at Merlin standing beside him looking entirely uninterested and dull.

“You would let the kings wait?” Holden demanded from him incredulously.

“Are you second-guessing the urgency of my business?” With satisfaction he saw Holden blanch. “Don’t worry, Holden. Perhaps I can make it in half an hour. Meet me at the stables. I will want to ride one of the new horses, prepare it for me. Come along, Merlin.”

They left Holden behind without another word. Saddling Arthur’s horse was normally a task left to Merlin, so he expected the man to be fuming by now. He paid Holden no mind, and instead they continued their route and he pushed through the door.

“Merlin? I need you to—Oh, Prince Arthur?” Gaius paused grinding snail houses into a powder.

Arthur walked up to him with a pleasant smile and put his hands on his side. “Good morning Gaius, I’m sorry you had to have breakfast alone this morning.” He really wasn’t.

“I had company actually, Lord Savaric shared some fine pies with me,” Gaius replied cheerfully.

It put Arthur on edge immediately. What did he have to discuss with Gaius? Did he know that Gaius had been a sorcerer, was he fishing anything out? Merlin looked worried as well, but only minutely. Arthur still noticed. “What did he say?”

“Well, in fact he wanted me to look over the burnt body of the boy. But I told him there wasn’t enough of him left.”

“It would be impossible to make anything out, after the fire,” Merlin added. Gaius didn’t look at him directly but nodded quietly.

Arthur pondered. If Savaric wanted an analysis, perhaps he wasn’t satisfied yet. He turned to Merlin, who was pale and ashen. What Arthur had demanded of him wasn’t easy, but he needed him right now. Merlin wasn’t talking. He was afraid. “What do you know about this man, Gaius?”

The old physician sat down at his workbench and swirled a glass container which held a bright blue fluid which, oddly, turned yellow. “I’ve never met him before. And I have not heard his name, either.”

Arthur sat down opposite Gaius, glanced at Merlin, and put an elbow on the table to demand the man’s attention. “I need your help, urgently. What do you know about the Nine Whistles?”

A frown crossed his features. “I’m not certain I’ve heard of it,” Gaius said.

“Well, we need to look into it. It’s at Camelot. Savaric owns it.” Gaius flinched and his eyes strayed momentarily to Merlin. It was only for a fraction of a second but Arthur had his answer. “You _do_ know what it is. I don’t have time for denials today.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Gaius offered pleasantly. “I might have something in my books. I would have to look into it.”

“Gaius,” Merlin began. He put a hand on his master’s shoulder. The words came out with difficulty. “Arthur knows what it does. He knows who Savaric is. And he knows about me. I need your help on this.”

“My lord, what on earth are you talking about?” the old man asked the prince.

Merlin pressed his lips together. “Gaius, I’m sorry. There’s no other way.”

Arthur huffed, “What Merlin is _trying_ to say is that I’m aware of everything that’s going on. And you need to hear me out.”

Gaius blinked at him blankly.

“I really don’t have time right now to go into it. Savaric is fishing out sorcerers, he receives money from my father to do so. This time I want to be ahead of his next plan, rather than running after the facts. I need you to tell me what you know.”

When Gaius put down the glass container the liquid was a deep blue once more. The line of his shoulders changed and he leaned forward over the table, staring at Arthur directly with a crude expression. “I’m afraid it might be a task too dangerous for you to undertake.”

Arthur leaned forward, stony-faced. “I’m testing neither your loyalty nor your integrity. I have the most powerful fighting men in the kingdom at my disposal, both magical as well as non-magical. You know this as well as I do.” He purposefully made room on the bench for Merlin, who hesitated momentarily but took a seat at last.

The dangerous eyebrow lifted at Arthur’s statement, and Gaius pursed his lips. Arthur felt somewhat relieved, because it was a revelation of sentiments so very clearly in conflict, it meant he had an angle.

Arthur continued, “You already know who Savaric truly is.” It wasn’t a question.

“When did you find out?” Merlin piped up.

“This morning,” Gaius said and turned to Merlin. “When he tasked me with informing him if anyone came asking questions, specifically about him or the Nine Whistles. I had no idea it would be you, Prince Arthur.” His gaze returned to the prince.

“He was expecting Alined?” Arthur put forward, “or Trickler perhaps?”

At the last name, Gaius’ eyes widened. Arthur smirked. “Trickler is the boy’s real father after all.” He shot a sideways glance to Merlin who was clearly content with that statement, the smallest curve of his lip revealing all to Arthur.

“And what is your take on this, sire?” Gaius leaned back in his chair at last.

Putting both elbows on the table, Arthur leaned forward. He explained how his father had been delighted with Savaric’s appearance in Camelot, and had accepted the man into his favor immediately. He explained their haste in executing the plan with the Nine Whistles and that he had no other choice than to lock him and Merlin away immediately. He noticed that Gaius became very uncomfortable at that.

“To be honest Gaius, it was my father who revealed your magic to me, months ago. It made all the sense in the world to me that Merlin would be your apprentice.”

Instead of Arthur, Gaius looked at Merlin with a long, hard stare. Eventually he reached over the table and placed his hand over Merlin’s arm, which was sprawled over the table top. “Merlin,” he began, “I have known you some years now but I never expected this.”

“Gaius, I’m sorry,” Merlin said at last.

“My boy, this is where we are now. But are you alright with this?” Gaius asked pointedly.

Merlin’s brows lifted and he looked at his master. “Yes, I am. I thought you would be—"

“Oh, I’m quite appalled, to be fair. You have put Arthur in a very difficult position. But he is right, we have more pressing matters to consider. And it does make things a might easier if we can talk openly.”

For a moment, Merlin just stared at his master. He was clearly thinking things through, weighing over everything that was said. At last Merlin said, “They will try again today. I’m certain of it. This hunting trip is merely to take the kings out of the equation. I think we should protect Trickler as well, make preparations.”

“Are you out of your mind, Merlin?” Gaius chided.

Merlin frowned. “I know what he did, Gaius. But revealing Trickler would still be a potential cause for war. The longer Uther is left guessing, the safer the peace treaties are.”

“You’re wrong, Merlin,” Gaius replied. “His sorcery is very powerful.”

“It’s not,” Merlin interjected. “He has a few tricks, but he’s not powerful at all.”

Arthur looked at Merlin curiously. “How do you figure that?”

Gaius crossed his arms unhappily, though he was still intent on listening.

Merlin bit his lip.

“I haven’t got very long, Merlin. Tell us what you know.”

At last with a sigh the warlock began to explain, “I still believe it was Trickler who cast the love enchantment. He is also probably the one who has the stolen book. But this type of magic is not his core strength, so he possibly had help. I don’t know how yet. Tybalt has… had magic too, but only very little.”

Arthur understood that Merlin wasn’t ready to reveal Tybalt’s rescue yet. Or perhaps that he wouldn’t admit it at all.

“It’s unlikely that Tybalt would ever develop a great strength,” Merlin continued. “The guards spoke of a snake appearing from a helmet. This is a very small trick, but was too complicated for Tybalt to perform. Trickler did it. If he had any real strength, he would have found a way to free his son. Instead he chose to hide, which tells us everything.

“What about the butterflies?” Arthur asked.

“Very simple. They were an illusion, a small one.”

“And the guards at the library?” Gaius brought forward.

“They were drugged. Only more proof he doesn’t possess a variety of spells.”

“That still doesn’t explain how Trickler was able to perform the Sidhe enchantment,” Gaius pointed out. “Or how you and Lady Vivian got out from it. This spell was supposed to hold until death.”

Arthur shifted in his seat and did his best not to recall the moment Merlin had freed him, nor everything that followed. Fortunately, Merlin was far more adept at handling these situations. “The spells didn’t hold, they were both freed and have fully recovered,” Merlin addressed simply. “The longer Trickler has that book, the more Sidhe spells he might become aware of.”

Gaius shook his head. “There’s something else you should be aware of. He may be showing himself to be weak, but he has you both fooled.”

“What do you mean, Gaius?” Merlin demanded.

“Halig had the right of it. The body which came down from the pyre, it was not human. It’s been swapped for something else. Trickler saved his son.”

“Gaius,” Arthur said, “that wasn’t Trickler. That was Merlin.”

Gaius stood up and glared at the both of them. “Merlin? What on earth did you do?”

“He can’t identify me, Gaius, I was careful,” Merlin said, begging his master to understand.

Arthur stood up as well. “It was _my_ request, Gaius. Merlin saved the boy. He is residing somewhere until we return him to Trickler.”

“You went against your father’s orders?” Gaius asked him.

“The boy was innocent, that much I believe in,” he said vehemently. “I cannot stand by and watch innocents burn. Savaric— _Halig_ will not stop until he has either fished out all sorcery, or taken all my father’s money doing so. They will search _everywhere._ ”

“Then Halig must be stopped first,” Gaius conceded. “Before his search leads him to us.”

“They may search my quarters all they like, there’s nothing to be found,” Merlin said.

“You still haven’t told us what you know about the Nine Whistles.”

“There is not much known. It is an ancient instrument which beguiles the minds of magical beings. The purpose of it was to allow sorcerers to relax and feast after great battles, like a good drink. But it became a powerful tool and was hidden away for a long time. I was hardly affected by it, but…” He glanced at Merlin. “It can be destroyed. Either a great force must be applied, or… the user of the instrument must have magic to destroy it.”

“What happens then?” Arthur pushed.

“If a magic user plays the Nine Whistles, the instrument will both attract magic as well as be infused by it. It will crack and be disintegrated. That is the theory.”

“What if we steal it?” Arthur asked.

“Halig would not let that happen,” Gaius said. “Besides, the magic user would be revealed for all the kingdom.”

“We have to alert Trickler, first of all,” Merlin reasoned.

“Why do you insist on protecting a man who attacked Prince Arthur?” Gaius demanded.

“Because he believes he just lost his son. He will be a broken man. And he is not powerful at all. Tybalt is waiting for him and he doesn’t have a mother. Trickler hasn’t only used his magic for evil, he has a good side. I must believe in that. We might be able to reach out to him and dissuade him from further attacks.”

“You mean to intimidate him?” Gaius asked.

“No,” Arthur said, turning to Merlin. “You intend to convince him.”

Merlin shook his head. “Not me. You. I can’t reveal myself. Not ever.”

“But I will be away riding, Merlin. It has to be you.” Arthur already knew the best argument to win Trickler over currently resided at The Crossroads.

Merlin balled a fist in frustration, but nodded eventually.

“I can’t leave them waiting,” Arthur announced. “Merlin, fetch my coat and come to the stables.”

Merlin made to get up.

“Merlin,” Gaius urged him, “I would really rather you wouldn’t face Trickler by yourself.”

“He needs to know, Gaius. Before the Nine Whistles is used.”

“I suggest that you seek someone who has been similarly affected by Tybalt’s death, to ease the discussion.”

Merlin looked up at Gaius. “You mean Lady Morgana?”

Gaius nodded at Merlin pointedly.

Arthur sighed. “Do you believe she should know the boy was rescued?” He wasn’t happy about that at all.

“If Morgana knows, she can assist in disarming Alined, and help the treaties. She’s been so distraught. Alined wouldn’t have any reason to make moves against either of us,” Merlin suggested. “You should go, Arthur. They’re waiting.”

Arthur nodded and turned to Gaius. “Thank you, Gaius. I’m only beginning to understand everything that’s been happening. If you hadn’t been here for Merlin, I can only imagine his loneliness.” He ignored the strangled sound that came out of Merlin's direction. His heart thudded against his ribs. If he looked now, he would be lost. But he knew, he understood.

Gaius patted down his robes. “I am grateful too, Prince Arthur. I’m very proud to see you grow into a very sensible young man.”

Arthur beamed and nodded at Gaius.

“I wouldn’t know about _that_ ,” Merlin countered with a small grin.

“Merlin!” Gaius chided.

Arthur scoffed at him. He rather felt like dragging him into the corridor and making out with him, but he suppressed the urge to make anything apparent.

“But I’d say he’s off to a good start,” Merlin said with cheek. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“You watch out,” Arthur said without heat. He remembered where he’d heard Merlin’s words before. “And hurry up, I’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

At last he left, before he would change his mind and drag Merlin out of the room himself. He headed down to the central hall, down the stairs, and into the courtyard. Three of the five kings were already seated in their saddles. Birger, Weston, and Kolby were among the riders, their horses burdened with crossbows, spears, and longbows. King Rodor’s horse was just being brought out and his father’s horse was not yet in sight. Several of Camelot’s knights were saddled as well, they were talking loudly and their voices and laughs echoed through the courtyard.

Arthur assumed that Uther was still going over the final details with Halig and was keeping the men waiting on purpose to show his authority. He was finalizing his control on the situation, assuming to have positioned everyone where he wanted them. Arthur would play along today, but he had his own moves to make.

When he entered the stables, he found that Holden had saddled the larger of the two Sarmatian horses, even though it wasn’t quite as a big as some of Camelot’s beasts. The stallion was in fine shape and greeted Arthur eagerly. “Are you not riding?” he asked Holden, noticing that the man was still wearing his servant’s garb and no proper riding gear.

“No, my lord. I’m staying behind.”

Arthur smiled kindly at him. “You’re after that missing book, aren’t you?”

“Of course, sire,” Holden added. “And I might have an idea where to look.” The pointed stare he was offered indicated he should be aware of what he meant.

“I don’t think I quite follow,” he said, stroking the neck of the horse beside him. He needed to become familiar with the beast’s moves, agitations, and smells. The horse nibbled on his shoulder with its thick lips happily.

“It’s not the first time we have had reason to suspect Merlin,” Holden said. “He had the means to take the book.”

“But no _motive_ ,” Arthur retorted. “He has my absolute trust, you would do well to remember that.”

Holden finished tying the strap of the saddle and stepped back. “You punished him yourself, sire.”

“As a prank. He was freed wasn’t he?” He looked at the beast once more and turned to his father’s manservant. “Listen carefully, Holden.” Arthur offered him a sly gin. “Just because I will be king one day and Merlin will remain my royal manservant, you cannot aim to ruin his life. Or I will ruin yours.” He advanced on Holden, taking hold of the saddle. “I had thought to keep you on as stewart. I know you like that position. You don’t want to give it up, not to Merlin.”

Holden was visibly taken aback. He took a step back, his left foot stepping deep into a pile of horse droppings. “My lord, he is new to Camelot, and he is a poor example of our fine culture.”

“Culture changes with each king, Holden. Things were different before my father conquered Camelot, wouldn’t you agree?” He got up on the horse and looked down sideways at his father’s manservant.

“Yes, sire.” Holden tried to get the dung off his boot.

“How could you know? You weren’t born yet.” He held out the reins towards Holden to lead him out of the stables.

“Of course. I have heard it recounted,” Holden stammered and took hold of the reins.

“I’m sure you have. And you adjusted over the years quite fine. You are really a prime example of our household’s ways, clever and strict. But you severely underestimate Merlin’s service both here at the castle as well as in the field. He performs his duties on the frontline too. That’s why I don’t see him as stewart.” The horse started to walk out, being guided with utmost care by Holden through the musty stables. “So, you had better prove to me that you are worthy of the position.”

“Yes, sire,” Holden conceded.

“So, naturally, feel free to check his room. But be sure of this, if I find you baiting him for no reason, there will be consequences.”

Holden looked up at Arthur with some clear worry and acknowledged him at last, “Yes, sire.”

“Very good,” Arthur said cheerfully as they joined the other kings, servants, and knights. “Dennett, good man. Do you know if this beast has a name?”

Dennett walked up to him as Arthur picked up the reins again, and shook his head. “I’m afraid they were gifted to us. He doesn’t have a name. Would you like the honors, sire?”

“I certainly would. Let me ride him today and I’ll let you know his name upon my return.” He smiled at Dennett, who grinned back. “How are the repairs coming along?” He noticed Merlin walking up to him with his thick winter coat.

Dennett’s smile faded somewhat. “Poorly, I’m afraid. I haven’t got the funds to fix the real problems.”

“I’ll see if I can do anything about that, I promise,” Arthur offered. ”Put together a list of what you need.” Dennett nodded at him gratefully but Arthur saw he hardly expected anything to really happen. He took the jacket from Merlin wordlessly and put it on, only briefly looking back to see Merlin hurrying back inside. He’d wanted to tell him something, give him some private promise for that evening, but he didn’t have the opportunity.

At last his father appeared, riding his old war horse, a fine mature beast with at least as much pride as Uther himself. The knights formed around Uther, no doubt in a display of power, arranged before the guest kings had ever been invited on this outing.

This hunt was clearly symbolic for the peace treaties, intended to strengthen the bonds between the men and test each other in the field, even if it would not be against each other. The hunting would be a neutral ground where the kings would cooperate, reflecting the joined warfare they were planning on external foes. And Uther planned to take center place in all of them, showing them he was victorious before even going in.

Just as Arthur suspected, Uther took the lead and rode out of the gate with the knights around him. Arthur took a position next to King Olaf and as a group they rode out.

  
**\-----70 Merlin-----**

There was a great bustle inside and the servants of all the households were bringing the tables from the banquet hall to the throne room. It was utterly uncoordinated and Merlin suspected that this meant Holden was already going through the rooms upstairs. A large table blocked the entire corridor as it was being maneuvered by twelve strong servants. Merlin calculated that if he took another path he’d have to go through the kitchens and that wouldn’t be any quicker, so he waited impatiently.

The first moment he saw, he slipped past the man holding the table at the back. With less than a foot of space to go and continued on his way. Up the stairs he saw Eda and Lady Vivian walk his way. He bowed to them and asked, “I hope you are recovering, Lady Vivian. What are you doing up and about?”

“That is none of your concern,” Lady Vivian said. “Yet.”

“We were asked to leave our chambers,” Eda added. “The walk will do us good.” She smiled.

“Yes, well, we can’t wait all day for that. Come along now.”

He was grateful for Lady Vivian’s haste, so he could continue as well. Meanwhile he heard things being opened and closed, pushed aside, and shoved across the stone tiles. Nothing was spared, he noticed. Holden was in one of the rooms, checking under one of the beds. Many guards were around him, similarly checking every nook and cranny.

At last Merlin arrived and knocked on Morgana’s door. He hoped that Arthur would remain safe during the hunt. If Uther himself was present and the other kings were there, he highly doubt that there would be any attack. And Arthur was a good hunter, he would not be speared by an angry boar and he knew how to handle himself against serkets and other creatures.

He felt their closeness more pronounced after waking up side by side, after Arthur took him completely. It had fueled his protectiveness. Arthur was _his_ and no one else’s. Even if they didn’t know it yet. At least Merlin knew for himself now, he wanted this and nothing else. He would fight for it.

Morgana opened the door. She looked beautiful in her deep purple dress, the one Gwen had recently adorned with even more beautiful lacework. A light green throw was over her shoulders against the chill, and it made her eyes stand out.

“Merlin, what are you doing here?” She opened the door for him, and looked if anyone else was in the hallway behind him.

“Oh, I’ve brought you… er, some news.” He realized he should have arrived with a potion or something. With all the kings, knights, and most servants absent, he hadn’t even thought about it. He entered her room and she closed the door quickly behind him.

“Shh. Gwen is staying with me, so she might enter when she’s dismissed. I can’t speak freely.”

“I understand. But I must invite you to something special. It’s urgent.”

“Does it have to do with magic?”

“Yes, there’s someone—"

“No, Merlin. I can’t. I’m afraid. Whatever I’ve tried, I’ve been doing it wrong.”

“What? No, you’ve been great!”

“You don’t understand. My visions were untrue, unhelpful. I’ve lost my skills.”

Merlin stared at her blankly. Both her visions had been extremely helpful.

“I dreamed of Olaf when you needed help with Vivian, Merlin.”

“Yes,” Merlin agreed, “and when I made some suggestions, Arthur decided to treat Olaf differently. Now they have a bond of trust. Did you not see them ride out side by side?”

Morgana looked down but a small smile played on her lips. “So, it was not useless?”

“On the contrary!” Merlin couldn’t possibly relay to her that Olaf’s desire for home had everything to do with his love for Vivian. And that it was exactly what Merlin had needed to hear. He just hadn’t understood it, at first. He couldn’t tell her.

She sat down at her vanity and nervously put a letter away into a small box of sewing tools. Merlin took the customary stool in the corner. “But when I told you about the man with the two faces. It wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for me.”

“Oh, that.” That vision had also been spot-on. “Really, Morgana, you shouldn’t take it so hard. I’m certain that there’s a reason I needed to be told. In fact, there might be something going on today to support that very fact.” He felt terrible that he wasn’t able to tell Morgana how instrumental she had been to get Merlin where he was now, that her visions had been perfect. He wished he could tell her, but it wasn’t right.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid. I’ve started wearing it again.” Her hand closed around the magical bracelet around her wrist.

“What happened?”

She gave an exasperated sigh. “Merlin, where have you been? They arrested and burned Tybalt.” She leaned her hands on her knees and lowered her head.

“I know,” he offered in a small voice.

“He was only a boy! Why couldn’t I save him, Merlin? I stopped dreaming so that I could have some ease. I might have dreamt about his capture and done something about it!”

“The boy was innocent. Is innocent,” Merlin put forward cautiously. When Morgana looked up at him, he offered her a small smile. “I can’t tell you how, so don’t ask me, but the boy was rescued. The intention is to keep him away from the citadel and make sure he travels home with his father.”

Morgana turned to him and leaned forward, her face closer than he was comfortable with, her green eyes piercing through his. “Do not jest with me. Is this true?”

“I know it to be,” Merlin said confidently. He saw how Morgana’s posture changed, how the worn and tired look was replaced with something defiant, including a hateful sneer. “Well, good for Uther. He will be sorely disappointed.”

“Uther may _never_ know!” Merlin added hastily.

“Of course not. Though I wish he could be told his little plan failed.” Her tone was cold and the way she played with one of her hair pins was telling.

“King Uther had no way of knowing he could draw you out…”

She pushed the pin back onto the vanity, pinning it into the wood. “Uther has very little idea about a lot of things.”

“Morgana, please. Put Uther from your mind. I need you to attend a meeting with me. For Tybalt.”

She furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. After a few moments she looked up to him at last. “I don’t want to leave this room. I have that scroll. It’s hidden extremely well, but…”

“The men are only searching drawers, under beds. They need to clear the whole castle before they return from the hunt.”

“Not all the lords are there. There is one remaining here.”

“Savaric?”

“He frightens me, Merlin.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, I mean, I understand. I know he will do something again, there’s no other way around it. But Tybalt’s father has magic too and he needs to be warned about Savaric, and he must be told his son lives.”

“Alined has gone out hunting,” Morgana said, searching Merlin’s eyes.

“Alined is not his father. I know he said that in order to claim him as his heir, but Trickler is his father. It was obviously a rescue attempt which didn’t work…”

Gwen walked into the room, carrying a steaming dish and paused. “Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude.” She bowed.

“Nonsense!” Morgana smiled and got up.

“I just wanted to take my lunch break and fix your black dress…”

Morgana smiled at her. “Yes, of course!” She looked distracted.

Merlin nodded at her and left towards the door. He turned back once more, his eyes begging Morgana to follow him. She sighed once more before her resistance crumbled and she followed him out the door.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said, looking around as if Savaric could pop out from the nearest corner.

“It wasn’t really on my schedule either, but I need you there.”

As they strode past the council chambers they saw Trickler exiting the banquet hall. Merlin had never personally spoken with the man. When he paused and hesitated, Morgana stepped out in front of him.

“Trickler, do you have a minute?” she called out sweetly. She was all grace. Merlin was grateful.

Trickler turned around and bowed in her direction. “My lady, I was just on my way to—"

“Oh, it won’t be a minute.” She held open the doors to the council chambers, which were empty and cool.

He bowed again and advanced, shooting Merlin a curious glance before heading into the chambers in front of them. “My lady, I beg your pardon but today is of a particular weight.” He paused and cleared his throat.

“Yes, I know. He was your son,” Morgana offered.

Trickler looked up curiously at her and shrugged. His unkempt beard was longer now and it grew all the way into his neck, Merlin noticed. He wore old rags, mostly. His shirt was newer than the rest and there was that shining silver ring on his finger.

Merlin spoke up at last, finding his voice. “I realize we don’t know one another at all, despite our masters becoming so well connected. A plan was successfully set into motion, a very secret plan, to rescue Tybalt.” 

A chair was pushed back and Trickler sat down, when he lost the very energy to stand at the mention of his name. He buried his head in his hands.

Morgana looked from Merlin to Trickler. “We are here to tell you this plan was successful.”

The man looked up at them, lost and broken. He sneered, “What are you playing at?”

When Merlin opened his mouth to speak, Trickler stood in front of them menacingly. Merlin immediately came to stand in front of Morgana and held up his hands. “It’s true. He is alive, safe, unharmed.”

“You lie!” His wroth was palpable in the air. He took out a knife and held it out in front of him.

“You can threaten us all you like. But we would rather see the boy returned to his father,” Merlin protested. “Besides, Lord Savaric is going to repeat what he did. You are in danger.”

“What?”

It was Morgana who asked the question.

“You have nothing to fear from Lady Morgana, or from me. You have magic, and that’s why you are in danger. This is what I’ve come to tell you.” His eyes pleaded for Trickler to understand. At the same time he hoped that Morgana would understand her danger too.

“Where is he?” the man asked. He held it out against Merlin’s ribs, but Merlin didn’t budge.

“Safe,” Merlin said. “You need to listen to me.”

“Bring me to him!” he shouted, spit dribbling down his chin.

“Mind your manners in the presence of a Lady,” Morgana snapped. “If Merlin says you are in danger, then I trust him to speak the truth. What is this about Lord Savaric?”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Trickler said. “You will bring me to my son, or else—"

“You _need_ to listen to me. Anyone who has magic can be summoned by his musical instrument. Against their will entirely. If Savaric plays again, then the boy won’t have a father to return to!”

“That’s nonsense! I don’t have any magic!” He lifted his hands and there was something raw and unbridled in his manner.

Merlin sighed in exasperation. “Whether you do, or you don’t, I’m telling you—"

“No, I’m telling you. You think you can play me. You had better stop while you’re still ahead,” Trickler warned them.

“I’m not going to stand down,” Merlin said at last. Morgana had retreated up against the wall and was looking on with hesitation. “I came here to warn you, and I have done so. You have to make sure that you don’t hear the music. Plug your ears, wear a big hat, lock yourself away. If you don’t, then you will be drawn to the music and put on the pyre!”

“How about I do _this?_ ” Trickler lifted the knife and stabbed the table. Then used his free hand to pull the silver ring off his finger. He slammed it onto the table beside the knife with great theatrics. “There!”

Merlin lost his vehemence and stared at Trickler stupidly. He eyed the man uncertainly for several moments.

“Now I don’t have any magic anymore. It’s this ring, not me!”

Merlin finally understood that this was how the man had performed the spells. That’s why he wasn’t powerful at all. He had used an artefact. “But Tybalt…” Merlin said, realizing he would give too much away if he said he knew the boy had magic. If Trickler didn’t have any magic then it would have come from the boy’s mother.

“You’ve used that ring?” Morgana asked him incredulously. “Voluntarily. Here at Camelot? Do you have a death wish?”

The man sneered at her, “You wouldn’t understand. I would do anything to protect my son.”

“I think you’ll find that she understands you better than you know. Lady Morgana protects the innocent here at Camelot at great risk to herself, from many enemies,” Merlin growled. “The word is as powerful as the sword, if spoken at the right time.” He glared until Trickler backed down. Morgana eyed Merlin curiously.

Trickler sighed and straightened his tunic. “I just want my son back. Bring him to me.”

“You will be brought to him once the treaties are over.”

“You are making _demands_?” Trickler spat.

“Only one. Peace. The kind of peace that allows children to grow up safe,” Merlin said.

“I can only speak for myself. I don’t care about your Camelot, and I don’t care about any of you. But if you have aided my son, then I will do as you say. If you do not return him to me, then I will find ways to hurt all of you.” He picked up the knife from the table, tearing it out of the wood, and pocketed it.

“Your ring?” Merlin asked.

“Do with it what you will. If I wasn’t able protect him with it, then it means nothing to me.”

“What about the person who saved him?” Morgana called out to him, lifting a sharp eyebrow.

“To him or her alone I extend my gratitude. No others.”

“One more thing,” Merlin said.

Trickler paused, his jaw working as his final patience was tried.

“They’re looking for the book, right now.”

“What book?” Trickler asked, glared at him, and left.

Once Trickler had gone, Morgana grabbed Merlin’s arm and roughly turned him around. “You know about that thing Savaric used?”

He nodded and whispered, “Gaius discovered that its sound draws out those with magic. I couldn’t say anything earlier.”

Her green eyes searched his face angrily. “You are only telling me now?”

Merlin waited until a servant passed in the hallway outside the council chambers and their footsteps were no longer audible. “There wasn’t time. Gwen doesn’t know about you, right?”

“No one knows, Merlin. What should I do?” 

He began to explain.

  
**\-----71 Arthur-----**

Arthur rode back towards the city after a mildly successful hunt. They had seen several deer, but not much else. The wild boars, foxes, and even various dangerous magical creatures had not come out. When they encountered a large stag, Arthur and the knights had gone into action and the kings had watched, merely riding to stay warm among the frosty leaves and the cool breeze.

Arthur rode next to his father. Uther was satisfied as Arthur had made the kill with one of the decorated royal crossbows. The beast would be served to the kings for that evening’s dinner. Arthur acknowledged that the knights in pursuit had tired the creature and drawn it into a gorge and that his shot had been pure luck. It had certainly been a wide shot, but the animal had jumped right into it. Nevertheless, his father’s pride was evident in his choice to ride back side by side.

To his own surprise, it made Arthur happy. He had not spoken privately with his father for some time, due to their constant public requirements and he noticed for the first time how worn Uther looked. He doubted that the man had had much sleep in the past few days, and he was certain that every possible scenario in revealing more sorcery was playing over and over in his mind until he did not sleep anymore.

It created an opening for Arthur, which he was reluctant to take. It was necessary to keep up the act, and several months ago he would have jumped at the opportunity to discuss this with his father. He would have sought out each road to make his father proud of him, defeating any magic that harmed Camelot, or even any magic that simply existed at all. He glanced over at his father and took a deep breath.

“So, when are we making the next move? I’m sure Holden will have been making preparations, am I right?”

There was a curl on his father’s lip, and Uther turned back to look at the other kings and their servants, trailing some distance behind them.

“I’m confident that we will have the book returned to Geoffrey. We’re going through all the rooms, but I assume that you figured that out already.” His father’s tone was satisfied.

“Of course,” Arthur conceded cheerfully. “What about Lord Savaric? I’m sure he will certainly be put to good use today. Right after the treaty signing, possibly?”

“You are very perceptive, Arthur. The treaty will be composed thus that whoever breaks with it may be attacked by all other parties as a joined force.”

“That hasn’t been discussed,” Arthur remarked, glancing sideways.

“It has not,” Uther agreed, steering his horse up a steep path.

Arthur’s beast climbed it quickly and eagerly, its ears alert and its mood steady. He waited for his father to join him once more. If Uther really was placing items into the treaty that none of the kings had checked, what sort of agreement would it be? It would spell out war after all, and it would put each country under severe scrutiny rather than achieve peace. If each king signed the copies in wax, it would be a solid agreement. He wondered if any other neighboring allegiances would be stronger than Camelot, and what would come of it if any of the kings broke any of even the smallest of the new agreements.

“I suppose King Alined is your first target, and Godwyn your second,” Arthur put forward. He expected those kings to first do something to break the agreements; Alined because he was cunning and needed money, and Godwyn because he was a self-pleasing man who did not relate much to others around him. “But you’re not going to make your move until they have thinned out the druids, the Saxons, and the Angles, are you?”

“I’m impressed, Arthur,” his father said and smiled. “You’ve really been paying attention. I’m not so worried about the Angles though, they’re not organized.”

His father’s short-lived flattery warmed him, despite all the dangers involved. The man who was king bore so many responsibilities and Uther had always made it look easy. To Arthur it was a daunting task and he would need to speak with each king before they left, to assure his personal allegiance, separate from his father’s. It would not do to send the countries to war, when they were besieged from each side from external forces. His father’s efforts were futile and it hurt him to have to acknowledge it.

Uther rode out a little in front of Arthur and smiled. “We will have a music performance at the feast, in the throne room this time. Everyone will attend. The preparations have already begun. The wood for another pyre is already prepared, it will be grand.”

“What if it’s from Rodor or Olaf’s men?” Arthur asked him. “Are you prepared to face either of them as well? They are stronger in the art of war, and their armies are larger.”

“Everything will already be signed. Whoever it is risks the immediate wrath of all other kings.”

What his father was suggesting was chaos. He couldn’t let it happen. Even if there was another sorcerer among the other households, besides Trickler, it would put Camelot into a state of war in an instant. Halig could not play his instrument. What if all the kings turned against him and his father? What if Arni and Gudrun fought with the knights of Camelot? All the work that had been built up would be destroyed instantly.

“Will you offer Halig a permanent place?” he pried at last.

His father shot him a glance and then laughed out loud. “I wondered if you had caught up on that. I have to say, Arthur, you have surprised me. I thought you were disinterested, distracted. But you have kept your head on your shoulders.”

“I would certainly hope so,” he said lightheartedly, hoping to appease his father. The strange events surrounding Lady Vivian had likely damaged his father’s view of him. He’d had to work extra hard to get back into his favor.

“But yes, I intend to offer Halig Geraint’s old chambers. They have been vacant since his death. He will permanently reside at Camelot.”

“Excellent choice, father,” Arthur said. And he knew it was the very worst thing that could possibly happen.

  
**\-----72 Merlin-----**

Merlin entered Gaius’ workshop and saw his master seated next to the window, looking pensive. He closed the door behind him and snuck over to him, taking a seat on the pelt rug in front of him. A small fire was lit in Gaius’ hearth, and throughout the room various thick candles served to keep the cold at bay.

“Gaius? What are you doing?”

When the old man turned to him he smiled wanly. “Waiting, mostly. The worst is already over.”

“What happened, Gaius?” he pressed.

“They came here, and they went into your room. They searched everywhere.” He put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “They did not find anything, of course. But Holden showed particular thoroughness.”

Merlin shrugged. “I’m not surprised. But they won’t find anything, ever.”

“I’m glad the searches are over. I am very worried whether they have found the missing book. If they have, it is bad news, and if they have not, it is equally bad news. What’s this?” Gaius held up his hand to accept the ring Merlin had pressed into his palm.

“It’s an artefact. The wearer will possess a mild form of magic. Gaius, this is our answer.”

The old physician sat up straight suddenly and held the ring up against the light streaming in from the window. There was nothing remarkable about the workmanship. It was a piece of silver and whatever was imbued into it was invisible to the eye. There were several decorations, but none of them were tied to any specific kind of magic.

“Where did you get it?”

“Trickler was using it. He’s not a sorcerer after all.”

“Have you tested it?”

“And how would I go about that, exactly?” Merlin asked with some drama.

Gaius lifted his eyebrow and hmm-ed. “If this really works, how do we get Halig to wear it?”

“He won’t wear it by force. Someone must give him the ring as a gift somehow,” Merlin pondered.

“Leave it to me, Merlin. I will ensure he receives it. After all, I’m sure he will be checking back here to hear my report before long. I can offer it as an extension of my gratitude.”

Merlin shuddered to consider that man and his instrument being anywhere near him. He was supposedly cleared from suspicion several times, and yet scrutiny was always around the corner. “That still leaves him alive after the instrument is destroyed. He won’t stop.”

“That is something to consider at a later date, Merlin. We can’t solve both problems at once.”

Merlin pondered. Perhaps he could. He got up and rummaged through the room. He was just reaching into the hidden compartment of an old shelf when a knock came at the door.

“Enter?” Gaius offered. He pocketed the ring.

When the door opened it was Eda, and behind her Lady Vivian. Gaius stood up at once and smiled at Vivian and she offered him a self-satisfied smirk in return. Eda held the door open and Vivian walked in a straight line up to Gaius, offering him a piece of paper. Merlin had closed the compartment quietly and kept to his corner of the room, curious.

“Lady Vivian, I was wondering when we would see you again today.” Gaius got up from his old chair and bowed to her.

“Yes, Geoffrey was a great deal too busy to submit my request, _initially_. I will need you to sign it immediately.”

“Is this it?” Gaius studied the paper curiously.

In the meantime Vivian eyed Merlin with a sharp, knowing smile. “Are you going to stand around uselessly?” She was dressed in a form-hugging violet dress with long, narrow sleeves, a deep brown fur cloak hung over her shoulders. She was wearing the tiara; the same one Arthur had put into his pocket the other day.

He bowed to her and in his sudden anxiety also to Eda, who chuckled lightly. She looked well-recovered after a full day of rest, her full cheeks were rosy and her long dark hair looked soft in her long braid. It was good to see both of them well, but their appearance in this part of the castle made him wonder.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Gaius sounded pleased and picked up his feather pen and pushed the scroll open on the table beside him. When he was done and carefully poured some sand over the parchment in order to let it dry. He turned to Merlin and held out a hand, beckoning him to come closer.

Feeling put on the spot, Merlin inched closer to them and smiled nervously. He still wasn’t certain what Vivian thought of him. “I hope you are feeling well again. Has your walk been pleasing?”

“Yes, quite. Has Arthur not passed my explicit thanks to you?” Her tone was disappointed, but she waved it away immediately. “That’s not why I’ve come. What I want to address is that whatever affliction I had, seems to have gone altogether. Eda is my witness, it has not happened since before… well, _before_.”

“It’s gone?” Merlin repeated foolishly. He wondered when she would bring forward his use of magic, which she must have seen. His chest constricted and he held his breath.

“It seems so,” Eda confirmed with a soft smile. “We’re not certain how it happened, but she’s been entirely fine.”

“Yes, well,” Vivian interrupted her and gestured at the scroll. “That is actually why we are here.”

“Merlin,” Gaius said and opened the scroll.

Merlin paled and came to stand next to his master. He looked at his feet, waiting for an order to come. No order came for him.

“This is for you.”

“What?”

Gaius held out the scroll to him. Vivian smirked at Merlin’s obvious discomfort and Eda held her hands together in front of her. When Merlin picked up the scroll, he saw that the corners were finely decorated and there was a seal from Olaf’s house, the prancing toothed bear, as well as a signature from Gaius, right below a Pendragon seal, and Geoffrey’s signature. He stared at it.

“For me?” he asked and while he noticed Vivian crossing her arms impatiently beside him, he read the words which had been beautifully calligraphed, in Geoffrey’s hand.

_I, Geoffrey of Monmouth, with explicit consensus of the royal court of Camelot and the royal court of King Olaf of Norway, and with explicit approval of Gaius, Royal Court Physician, bestow upon Merlin the rank of Journeyman Physician._

He looked again at the seals and felt lightheaded. _Journeyman?_ That meant he wasn’t an apprentice anymore. He had worked under Gaius’ supervision for close to two years now. He had no idea how close he had been. But then, he had a feeling that this wasn’t Gaius’ doing.

“Lady Vivian…” Merlin said with a lump in his throat. He swallowed it down. “I…”

“Let’s just say I was surprised by your resourcefulness.” She eyed him sharply and he understood exactly what she meant. He felt woozy. She continued, “And since no one was able to cure me until I came into your care, I needed to find a way to extend my full gratitude.”

He couldn’t find any words. It wasn’t just about the affliction, it wasn’t just about the medicine he had provided to her. It was _everything_. The magic, her father, her collapse at the final moments when death would have taken her. Merlin hadn’t given up on her and he realized that she very much acknowledged that.

Gaius was looking at Merlin with affectionate pride, and no small amount of amusement. Of course, Gaius had no idea that Vivian had seen his magic nor that she had alluded to that just a moment ago. If he knew, he would be livid.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said at last.

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin. I am the one who is grateful. If you want to do right by me, then keep doing what you do best.”

A horn was blown which meant that the kings and the knights were returning. Vivian looked at Eda and there was a small moment of recognition between them. “They have returned. We must receive my father at once. Eda—"

“Yes, my lady.” With a smile, Eda bowed at Merlin and Gaius and hurried towards the door to hold it open for Lady Vivian who marched out the door with her head held high.

Merlin looked at the scroll and to Gaius. “You knew about this?”

“She brought it forward this morning after you left. You deserve this, Merlin. Though you could go about your scientific testing with a great deal more accuracy.” He patted the pocket in his tunic with the magical ring and grinned.

“I’m going to write to my mother,” he said, finally allowing himself to smile. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m afraid that will have to wait, Merlin. You must attend Prince Arthur. He will need to get out of his riding gear and be ready for the last day of council meetings. If anything, this is the most important day of all, for they intend to sign the treaty at last.”

“Yes, Gaius. Will you keep this safe for me?” He offered the scroll back.

Gaius took it and rolled it back up, tying the small lace around it once more. “I will guard it, Merlin. But your rank is more than these signatures, it is what you have achieved. Those involved in signing it know all about it. Now go, and for goodness sake, stay out of trouble!”

“You know me.” Merlin smiled. He was filled with a sense of achievement and sprinted down the workshop to the room. He knew what should happen. The treaty should be signed, and the Nine Whistles should be destroyed. If he could manage that, then he was certain he could solve the problem of Halig too.

When he ran down the western tower he nearly bumped into Gwen.

“Merlin! I came to get you. Did you not hear the announcement?” She looked around to see if anyone was close, and he noticed she was panting. Several servants were hurrying around the place as well, but none of them were close to the entrance of the tower.

“Sorry, Gwen. I’m heading there now. Is everything alright?”

“Actually, can I borrow you for just a moment?” She smiled apologetically at him and they walked several steps back up the tower, out of earshot of anyone walking past.

“I’ve been late before,” he offered with a smile. It made her grin, but Merlin noticed she was uneasy today.

“I’m sorry about that, but I need to tell you something.”

“Has anything happened?”

“Do you remember that bracelet? Well, I need to tell you that Morgana still wears it. It makes me nervous, I mean, even though she is quite recovered from her poor rest and bad dreams, well, most of the time.”

“I’m not sure, Gwen. It might just be that Morgana is doing better? She’s been a star at the council meetings too, right?” he deflected.

“Oh, she has! It’s just… there was a letter from Morgause.”

Merlin was alert at once. “Really? When did it arrive?”

“Yesterday. I think. What irked me is that she hid it. In the sewing box, where I needed to look through to fix one of her dresses. I didn’t search though, I didn’t pry. It was just there.”

“Have you read it?”

“No, I only saw the name at the bottom. Do you think I should have?”

Relief washed over him. If Morgause knew about Morgana’s magic and had given her a specific item, then perhaps there was more behind it. Morgause was not to be trusted, Merlin knew that much. He was worried how Morgana might react to a letter. Perhaps she would learn more about the bracelet, or why Morgause had singled her out.

“I don’t think so. Morgana is owed privacy. I’m sure she will come forward with something if it’s truly of consequence.”

“I’m worried, Merlin. I’m not certain who to turn to. Certainly not Holden, not when they went through all her things.”

“They went through her room?”

“Yes, they turned everything upside down. They even took the dress I was fixing from my lap to see if I was hiding anything!”

“They did not find the letter, right?”

“I placed it under my apron, just at the right time. When they realized there was nothing they could find, they didn’t even apologize.”

“I’m sure that Holden was tasked to do this, and probably for good reason. The missing book is a great concern to Uther, and to Geoffrey too,” Merlin offered. He hated withholding information from Gwen. She was so perceptive and never missed anything relevant. Except for Morgana’s magic. If she knew, she certainly wouldn’t bring anyone’s attention to Morgana’s private affairs. He knew that for certain. Morgana was safe from that at least.

“They literally went everywhere. Even Audrey was searched.” There was a twinkle of amusement in Gwen’s eyes.

“Oh?” Merlin snickered. “Did she chase them out with her giant spoon?” He was secretly still reveling in the fact that nothing was found in Morgana’s chambers. That meant the scroll was safe. He didn’t know how or where Morgana had hidden it, but she was cunning and would certainly know how to bypass a rough approach like this.

“I think Aldous certainly has a sore bruise on his head.” Gwen chuckled. “You should have seen his face.”

“And Lady Vivian, I assume they checked her quarters?”

“Oh, yes. No one was spared.” She looked troubled.

“How did Lady Vivian take it?”

“Actually, it was Eda who faced them. She is… formidable,” Gwen acknowledged.

“I think so too,” Merlin agreed. “She’s certainly a match for Vivian. I don’t think you could stand her for long.”

“Oh goodness, no. I’d like to think I am patient and diligent.” She looked down and patted her dress. “But not to that degree, by far.”

“You’d give her a hard time, I’m certain.” Merlin chuckled.

“Go on, before Arthur chews you out.” Gwen laughed. They both heard the fall of hooves across the courtyard and many people yelling for the kings to dismount.

Merlin left Gwen and hurried out to the courtyard where he was enveloped by a cool winter air. He hadn’t even told her about his new rank yet. He wanted to tell Arthur first. Perhaps he even knew already.

Arthur was still saddled, waiting to be helped with dismounting and was speaking with Dennett. The kings were moving inside, assisted by their servants, and quickly alerted by their staff about the impromptu search of their quarters. From the corner of his eyes, Merlin noticed that Uther was informed of something by Holden, and they both looked sour. Merlin assumed that meant the book had not been found.

“At your leisure, _Mer_ lin.”

A grin tugged on his lip at the sound of Arthur’s voice. A warmth spread through his limbs and something inexplicable fluttered through his belly. He turned around to look up at Arthur through his lashes, still grinning, and he was satisfied when this surprised Arthur and caused him to color somewhat.

“I’m sorry, sire,” he said, but only because Dennett stood near. He held the reins and helped Arthur dismount the Sarmatian horse.

“Shall I take Thorunn, my lord?” Dennett asked.

“Please do, and make sure the paperwork is done,” Arthur replied.

“Thorunn?”

Arthur took his spare gloves and dagger out of the saddle bag and shoved them into Merlin’s hands. “Yes, I’ve named him after the thunder. He is very fast and on point. Unlike you.”

Merlin resisted a chuckle.

“Very well, sire,” Dennett said and guided the beast back into the stables. Merlin wondered at the special attention Dennett was showing Arthur. He wasn’t surprised, the beast was new and Dennett would be taking time to get to know it.

Suddenly Arthur leaned in and Merlin froze. A chiding finger was aimed at his face and Arthur whispered, “Halig makes his move after the signing. Have you got a plan?”

From anywhere across the courtyard it would seem that Arthur was unhappy with Merlin. So, he shrunk back and lowered his head. “Yes. It will be destroyed the next time he uses it.”

“I don’t want to know. What about him?”

“I don’t know whether we should do anything about him yet.”

As the last horses were brought inside and the echoing of hooves died down, silence was returning to the courtyard, leaving them with less and less privacy.

“Right, I need to get ready for the meetings. They’re going to—"

“Sign today. Yes, sire.” Merlin was ahead of him, turning back towards the castle. “Do you want your armor?”

Arthur matched him and shot him a sideways glance. “Yes, with tabard today.”

They sped up the steps into the entrance hall and wordlessly split ways. Merlin headed towards the armory and Arthur in the direction of his chambers. Just before Arthur was all the way up the stairs, and before Merlin pushed through the door which lead down to the armory they both paused and turned around. Their eyes met.

It was electric.

  
**\-----73 Arthur-----**

Arthur strode into the council chambers early. He had changed swiftly with Merlin’s help, only mildly delayed by reaffirming hugs, touches, and quick kisses. They had both acknowledged the necessity of moving quickly and they had only spoken briefly about what needed to be done. After Arthur was crowned with his coronet, Merlin had threatened to undo all their hasty work by pushing him up, armor and all, against the wardrobe and ravishing his mouth with a rough, deep kiss.

Arthur still felt the pressure on his lips as he greeted the various kings while they entered the council chambers and took their customary seats. King Rodor was the first to approach him, which surprised Arthur greatly. “What is the meaning of this search, Prince Arthur? Why were _my_ chambers searched?”

“None were spared, Rodor, for obvious reasons. I’m certain they searched mine too. I wouldn’t worry. If there was anything untoward, you’d be in jail by now.” He didn’t flinch when Rodor glared at him.

“I brought you the solutions to your long-standing problems, and this is how I am treated?” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

“The solution is a great deal more extensive than one man. But I am grateful you have brought him to our attention. I am certain he will be a powerful ally of your kingdom and ours, together.” The words passed his throat with difficulty. He observed how King Rodor mildly relaxed.

“We fight against more than one enemy, the worst are the ones who are invisible to us,” Rodor grumbled and pushed past him to take his seat.

When Arthur moved towards the stack of empty parchments, he was cornered by King Godwyn who stood close to him, very close and muttered in a low voice, “Are you and your father entirely satisfied?” His voice was miffed.

“I know what occurred, but it was not under my orders. I humbly suggest you reveal what you do know, in order to clear the air.” He alluded to one of his men being caught at the library at night, only to have been removed before the guards—the ones who were awake—had come to check.

“Do not presume to tell me what to do, you are bright but you are still young. A bit too young to understand the extent of it.” Godwyn looked Arthur up and down and retreated to take his seat.

Arthur wasn’t phased. Coming spring he would turn twenty-one, the age at which he could become Crown Prince, if his father permitted it. He was sure that Godwyn underestimated him.

When Olaf entered, he sat down immediately at his seat, and observed the moods of the others around him with shrewd eyes. He was not going to bring forward anything about the searches, Arthur presumed, because his greatest secret was not an object which could be found.

Arthur bowed towards Morgana who entered, wearing a black dress and few pieces of jewelry. Arthur presumed it was out of respect of Tybalt’s burning. When he stepped back he bumped into King Alined. The man turned around to Arthur and looked him up and down. The last time they had spoken was on the balcony after the burning when Alined had spat in his direction. This time his look was different, haunted. Though he was fully dressed and decorated with his crown, tabard, sigil, rings, and cloak, he was visibly a wreck.

“I don’t know what sort of games you play, but you had better not be fooling me.”

Arthur saw Uther and Holden enter, behind Alined’s shoulder. They would begin soon. Merlin had told him briefly that he had disclosed Tybalt’s rescue to Trickler. No doubt Alined had been informed. “I assure you, these are not games to me. Our cooperation is _that_ important to me. I cannot force your hand, and I do not presume to. You will make your own choices. You know where to meet me.”

His father was looking at him oddly as he moved to his seat at the table. The meeting began when Geoffrey entered, even grumpier than usual, and summarized the latest points for that day. Arthur listened attentively to the latest news which was brought forward regarding means to obtain information from Cenred’s kingdom in order to find his weaknesses. He spoke mainly with Rodor about this. Arthur knew that his father considered him the strongest military partner to conquer this new enemy at their Eastern borders. If Uther could somehow take control of that kingdom, they would have the opportunity of multiple fronts against Bayard, which was his long-term plan.

Olaf put forward that he was very much in favor of signing and that he was ready to be on his way home to his lands, to make sure his sons had not yet brought it to ruin. “I shall depart this evening, I trust you will be soon eager to have your home to yourself again, Uther. Without all this fuss. I shall be happy to depart as allies,” the large man stated.

“I shall be sorry to see you and Lady Vivian depart,” Morgana said. “I hope you will write to us.”

“Certainly, Lady Morgana. And you shall be welcome at our court,” Olaf declared. He lifted a glass to Morgana.

“Yes, well,” Godwyn interjected, “while I am rather put-out, you understand, by finding ourselves, and even our lowest servants, being searched, I need to make it clear that whatever Kolby was intending, it was simply to perform a foolish request from my young daughter. I cannot presume to know what she asked, but right now only Weston attends me. I apologize for his sudden perceived involvement in this.”

Uther was visibly surprised by this and leaned back in his chair. “You admit to his being at the library two nights ago?”

“He has admitted it to me himself, Uther. And for it, he has lost his rank. Such foolish quests of youth must be impeded and punished at once.”

“Yes, quite,” Uther agreed. “Very well then. No harm was done.”

“Good.” Godwyn glanced briefly at Arthur and announced, “Then we shall depart at first light. We long to cross the mountains before the deep winter. The roads are troublesome already.”

“Certainly. You shall all be stocked with supplies for the road,” Uther said.

Arthur had to acknowledge that the men spoke with far less agitation today than he had expected. The various days of talks, the heavy bickering, and even their uncomfortable, cool hunting trip had done the men well and they were more at ease with one another. Even after being searched, and perhaps because nothing had turned up, the men seemed ready to sign. Arthur felt anticipation build in his gut.

His biggest concerns were the bans on druid occupation of land, unauthorized teachings, reduced literacy, and, of course, the ban on magic spreading throughout the kingdoms. However, the kings had also acknowledged that room was made for religion and personal choice in the dealings with magic once it was discovered. It was a loophole, Arthur knew. A very important one.

Their discussions paused when Holden opened one of the back doors to allow Lord Savaric the Bald into the room. His ridiculous costume clashed terribly with the kings in armor and their fine golden and silver jewelry. The man wore a pink and teal costume, decorated with yellow patches, and had cheap glass stones instead of precious crystal. He bowed before all the kings.

“Gentlemen.” Uther stood up from his chair. “Lady Morgana,” he addressed her separately. “It serves me a great pleasure to invite one of our good comrades and excellent performer, Lord Savaric the Bald, to this evening’s feast. He is King Rodor’s personal guest, and he shall be our evening’s entertainment.” The kings nodded and bowed individually at the man. Godwyn rubbed his chin contemplatively.

“Music has always been my passion,” the man said lightly.

“Unless any of you has any objections?”

Arthur stared at his father impassively. He saw how he and Holden were scanning the reactions of the individual kings as if testing to see which one would be most uncomfortable with the announcement. Apparently the searches had not proven fruitful, the quiet warnings had not been enough to do away with sorcery, and Arthur and Vivian’s afflictions had not yet been explained. Uther was out for blood, even now, so close to signing the treaty.

He had expected his father to make a similar move after signing, in order to immediately declare war. He wasn’t certain to which strategy he was adhering to in calling the kings out at this crucial step. To Arthur’s giddy delight, nothing odd was remarked, and no strange moves were made.

“I long to hear some fine music,” Alined said, his voice calm. Arthur only understood partially, from Merlin’s quick words, that Trickler was no longer an object to be concerned about.

“So do I,” Godwyn said. “Do tell me, good sir. From whence do you come? I have not heard of your name or your house?”

“But a small estate near Cornwall, sire.” Godwyn smiled, all ease. Arthur noticed his yellow teeth which stood out against his pale shaven face.

“Very well, you shall entertain us tonight,” Godwyn agreed with a lift of his hand. The other kings nodded in assent.

Morgana’s smile was all elegance, but she was playing with her necklace, something Arthur knew she did usually when she was contemplative. Nervous, perhaps? Did she know anything about the man?

He didn’t have time to find out. While Savaric was escorted out of the room, the final versions of the treaty were passed around. Geoffrey went over the major points, going through the various sheets quickly to address the key topics. Arthur wondered where they had hidden the clause that supported warfare at the merest sign of a break in cooperation. It made no sense to wage war with one of these men, when they had to look at the kingdoms of Odin, Bayard, Cenred, and the picts in the North.

Then, at last, the men were ready. They signed their names under all the papers and passed them around. Then each checked that the copies were the same and waited for the ink and the wax to dry. It was a lengthy process, which was filled with much relief and cheerful discussion.

“Father, I should like to be excused and attend the knights. I would bring them the good news. Are all of them invited this time for the feast?”

“Yes, we are seated in the throne room for an extended meal. Bring them the good news,” Uther said.

“I will join you, Arthur,” Morgana offered, and before he could complain—he had wanted to speak to Merlin privately before attending the feast—she had gotten up out of her chair and was halfway to the door.

“After you,” he offered and they both stepped out.

They walked through the busy halls, and the servants gave them a wide berth as they carried items for packing and generally looked stressed and worn. He looked sideways at her, at her decorative dress, and at the small black pouch that hung from her waist.

“You’ve been wonderful in there,” Arthur said.

“Did the wild beasts knock you on your head this morning, Arthur?” she remarked, but she was smiling.

“I knew you and Lady Vivian would get along,” he said. “You have some similarities.”

“I should hope our feminine qualities don’t blind you to the fact we couldn’t be more different,” she huffed.

“And how is that?” he asked, playing along.

“Well, for starters, I didn’t take a liking to you after just one week,” she said, jutting her chin.

“You’re right, that took years.” He grinned at her and it made her chuckle. “Truthfully, I’m glad for that. I doubt we could have gotten Olaf on our side if Vivian hadn’t warmed to us. Both of us.”

“You’re probably right. But we’re not out of the water yet,” she said contemplatively.

“What do you mean, Morgana?”

“Lord Savaric, he is…” she paused. “He seems to have started to take a liking to Eda.” She glanced at him meaningfully.

Arthur stared at her. He had no idea when Lord Savaric, Halig, even had the time to seek Eda out. Especially with Lady Vivian’s recovery being so recent. Then again, Morgana was often far more up to date about dealings in the castle than he was.

“And I’m assuming his advances are unwelcome?”

“He doesn’t seem like the type of man for whom consent means a great deal,” she said. She stepped closer to him and Arthur was surprised when he followed by taking a step back. “You must not let him get his way. He is terrible news for Camelot.”

“I suppose I should just tell my father to get rid of him?”

“You have no idea who he really is, do you?”

Once more Morgana surprised him. “And what if I do?”

“Then you know that Uther will not budge. You owe it to Eda that no repeat offenses are made.”

When Morgana took another step forward he didn’t move back. She was making her point clear, but so was he. “I can’t simply imprison him, or send him away.”

“That would be too simple for a man like him. Arthur, you need to think bigger. Not just for Eda. What if I’m next?”

“Halig would never—"

“Shh!” she said. He felt stupid for acknowledging the man’s real name to her, but all she chided him for was his volume. “You know I’m not wrong.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Her green eyes stared into his with force. She put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him straight. “Kill him.”

  
**\-----74 Merlin-----**

Everyone was seated for the feast and Merlin pushed through the corridors with plates of food, and more or less juggled his way towards the table, serving the kings, the knights, and their guests. There was all-round merriment to be had now that the word was out, unofficially, that the treaty was signed.

He hadn’t spoken with Arthur, but his heart had done a small jump at spotting him at the high table, seated on his usual throne beside his father, looking satisfied and positively regal. Morgana sat on Uther’s other side and though she mildly fidgeted, she looked like she had no intention of leaving, despite the announced musical performance. Everything was set in place.

Gwen handed Merlin his pitcher of wine and they briefly exchanged words about things returning to normal soon. “It’s lovely here, I mean Morgana’s bed is very comfortable. But I cannot wait to be back in my own home.”

“Not that bad, I hope?”

“Oh, I wake up each time she has a nightmare. And she is grumpy in the morning. Anyway, I assume it’s the same for you? It must be quite a nuisance to be around Arthur at night?”

“Oh, I don’t really notice anything. I’m out like a light.”

She chuckled.

“Besides, it all depends on when Lord Savaric returns my bed to me.” He shrugged. “At least Arthur doesn’t snore as much as Gaius does.”

She looked at him oddly. “I thought you said you were out like a light?”

“Well,” he cursed inwardly. “I need to clean up after him, don’t I?” He hated lying to her, telling her all these small half-truths.

When Gwen chuckled, he was utterly relieved. “I think Godwyn wants some of his wine,” she said and pointed. “He hasn’t touched our ale since he arrived. I think he brought it because he won’t drink anything else.” Merlin grinned at her and went back to work.

Next to Merlin, Weston, Birger, and Trickler were serving drinks. Trickler was dressed better than the previous days and he had shaved. Weston was by himself, as Kolby had probably been dismissed to pack. At the lower tables the lower ranked knights sat and enjoyed themselves. They were still complaining about their earlier dismissal, and were being generally boisterous and quickly got into their drink.

King Godwyn was speaking with Morgana about traveling during the winter. The skies had been clear the past few days, hence the cool air, but once the wet snows started, it was a real trouble. Gawant was not far geographically, but the mountains posed a great obstacle.

“I expect the weather will get worse,” Morgana said with a curious frown.

“My good lady,” Godwyn said, turning to her, “we are used to traveling through the mountains. And on top of that there are some good Roman roads we can take. The going is slow, but we know where to stop.” He held up his cup for Merlin to fill.

“And where are the best stops?” Morgana asked.

“Well, we shall first stop at Bromyard, and then cross the river at Clifton. Then at the beacons we are left with a problem. We used to stay at the inn of Talgarh but we are not so welcome there. The people think we intend to break down that temple.” Merlin turned to offer Morgana some wine, but she declined. Her cup was entirely empty, he noticed.

“The one you had never seen before?” Morgana asked.

“The very one. The word goes it was made for someone named Emrys and if you listen carefully you can hear his voice there, or some such nonsense.”

At the mention of the name, Merlin’s eyes shot involuntarily to Arthur’s who met his steadily. They both looked away. Arthur resumed his conversation with Sir Leon and Sir Caridoc. To anyone there, it would seem like nothing strange had happened. Gaius was far lower at the table and wouldn’t have heard a thing. There was a temple at the Beacons for Emrys? This was bizarre.

The door slammed, barely audible over the noise of the laughing, drunken guests and Eda strode in, hurrying past the guests with a thunderous frown—Merlin had no idea she could look angry—and a furious blush across her cheeks. She brushed past Lady Vivian, who showed visible concern, but didn’t stop. That was what caught Merlin’s attention foremost. He didn’t miss the glance Morgana and Arthur exchanged either.

“Eda?” he asked her, once she had arrived at the table at the back wall, where the extra pitchers and supplement of food were stored. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” she replied lightly, but her features belied her. She was folding a knife into her apron and tying it down. A sharp one.

“There’s only one person not here. So if I have to guess—"

“There is no need to guess. I can handle this. It’s not the first time men try.” She smiled at him defiantly.

“I would ask you not to make a move, though,” Merlin said quietly.

“You’re sweet for defending me.” Her smile was brilliant and her kind eyes looked him over.

He blushed and stammered, “Well, I wasn’t—er…”

“Don’t worry, Merlin. About me, I mean.”

The door at the other end of the hall opened and closed again, and Lord Savaric entered. Most guests kept talking but the high table went quiet in anticipation of the performance.

Eda whispered, “But if he tries again, I won’t hold back. Even if it’s not your way here at Camelot. It is mine.” She hoisted a large tray of food up into her arms and placed it near Lady Vivian and King Olaf for them to enjoy.

Meanwhile the room was starting to quiet down. Holden was dressed far more formally than usual in a black velvet doublet with dark buttons and a hat on his head—though certainly not as wildly decorated as the red one Merlin had worn after Arthur’s prank his first year.

“Gentlemen, good knights, ladies, and honored guests,” Holden addressed them, and even the rowdiest, young knights were quiet. A silence filled the room. Lord Savaric had taken his place on the podium at the front of the hall and was waiting for his introductions. Merlin noticed that he was wearing the ring, so he must have spoken to Gaius. He began to feel anxious. Everything depended on the coming minutes.

Holden spoke, reading from a prepared sheet, “We are gathered here at a time of peace, which several generations have now known, thanks to the uncompromising reigns of King Uther Pendragon of Camelot, King Alined of Deorham, King Godwyn of Gawant, King Olaf of Norway and the East, and King Rodor of Nemeth. The honor of receiving them at our court is extended to all their families.

“You are here to witness a historic event. Peace between the five kingdoms has been achieved through the painstaking negotiations of all five kings and it is my pleasure to announce to you that the peace treaty has been signed.”

A wild applause went through the room as everyone clapped. Merlin put down his pitcher to applaud as well.

“We will take a moment to bid farewell tonight to King Olaf and his daughter Lady Vivian, who has miraculously recovered and whose grace is unmatched. We will also offer our farewell to King Godwyn and his household, and bid them safe travels. May both parties find the roads safe and easy to travel, and may their horses weather the winter with strength.”

There was an applause and the kings nodded to each other.

“Before this evening’s entertainment, one final announcement rests.” Holden peered at the notes. “And that is of Merlin obtaining Journeyman Physician rank due to his care of Lady Vivian, deemed excellent, after which she is now proclaimed cured.”

Another applause started, this time pushed by King Olaf, who clapped with his big hands. Merlin saw how all the eyes in the room turned to him and he felt a furious blush creep up his cheeks. Soon the others followed in a heartfelt applause. Gaius was positively smiling. Morgana lifted her hands to him.

Arthur was staring. He hadn’t known. Merlin hadn’t had a chance to tell him.

Soon the other knights who Merlin had helped frequently stood up, Lady Vivian stood up, and so did King Alined and behind him Trickler, even Sir Caridoc. Eda and Gwen stood side by side and were grinning ear to ear. To Merlin’s great surprise, even Holden was applauding.

At last Arthur stood up as well, though his applause was mild. Merlin felt like he could sink through the floor from all the sudden attention directed at him. He had spent most of his life waiting for some form of acknowledgement, but the sheer amount of people made him fluster. He bowed in thanks and aimed to retreat behind Arthur’s chair.

“Alright alright. Before you get ahead of yourselves…” Arthur said, quieting everyone down. “Are you sure about his, Holden? There hasn’t been any mistake?” the prince addressed him playfully. Several knights boo-ed Arthur and a hubbub was starting.

“Positive, sire,” Holden said, looking straight at Arthur. He then turned to Merlin and said, “Congratulations, Merlin.” Merlin thought he might wake up from some odd dream, but nodded to Holden nonetheless.

“Well then, after all these great messages, let us all enjoy this great feast. A toast!” Arthur roared and lifted his goblet.

The room was wild with talk and Holden did his best to wait patiently for it to die down. Meanwhile Arthur lifted a hand, beckoning Merlin.

“When did this happen?” He was trying not to beam or look stupidly happy. But he was failing.

“Today,” Merlin snickered and leaned in closer so no one would overhear. “But Arthur. He’s about to start.”

Arthur pretended he was still happy, but his tone was serious. “You’ve got to do something, Merlin. This man is bad news.” Merlin knew what was coming. He had told Morgana as much. Arthur turned to him and said, “Do you recall that I asked you if you ever killed anyone…”

“You’re asking me now?”

Arthur saw Holden move forward to try and demand some sense as people gathered around Arni and some young knights who were bickering over a bet. He quieted them down with several harsh words and returned to his earlier place with all eyes fixed on him.

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur said at last. “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“If I may have your attention once more. I would like to announce today our special guest, Lord Savaric. He is a famed musician and will play for us especially today,” Holden addressed the room.

“You’re not afraid?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin said quietly. He was nervous but he wasn’t afraid. He put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder which would probably not be out of place at the feast, not tonight.

They looked on as all the guests turned to regard Halig who bowed deeply before them and resumed his farce. He watched Morgana, who was sat at the back of the room on her high chair, run a hand through her hair. Merlin knew that she was putting something in her ears, just in case. She was pale, but also looked determined. Gaius had his hands folded over his belly and was eyeing the stage, entirely unmoved it seemed. Merlin knew he must also feel the anticipation.

The first musical note started when Halig pressed his wet lips to the instrument. Its airy sound filled the room and Merlin felt the start of the same tug as before. He leaned his head down, even closer to Arthur’s ear, almost brushing his lips against it. “When I say so, take a deep breath and hold it. Don’t breathe out. Don’t move, not a muscle, don’t even turn your head. Look at Halig and keep looking.”

The air became thick around Merlin, with his own magic. He summoned it from deep within and called it to him, right as the notes began to snag on it, trying to reel him in.

“Now,” he said and squeezed Arthur’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, Arthur did the same and Merlin told the world once more to come to a full _Stop!_ The air stilled through the power of his magic, sound left their ears, and everything hung in mid air. Arni’s drip down his chin didn’t move. The crumb that fell down from Rodor’s fork was no longer falling. Everything was perfectly still.

Halig stood frozen in time too, his lips stuck in a pucker around the flute on the high end. Several cracks were already appearing in the wood works. The ring was starting to do its work. His eyes were closed. Merlin mused that he probably really thought he was some sort of musician. If only he had chosen to be a bard, he would not suffer this fate.

Merlin let go of Arthur’s shoulder and moved around the table. He strode through the center of the room and jumped onto the stage. None of his footsteps made any noise. He took a small vial out of his pocket and a small brush. He dipped the brush into the vial and lined the instrument’s mouth-tips with a very thin layer. He closed the vial and elevated it and the brush onto one of the beams up high on the roof of the throne room, where they would remain hidden.

Then he turned around to regard Arthur, who was staring at him seriously and with some fear. Merlin didn’t blame him, it was a harsh moment facing many realities and many possibilities moving forward. Perhaps things would change between them. Perhaps this was not what Arthur had anticipated at all. But Merlin had planned ahead. Arthur had asked this of him.

His lungs began to complain and the tug of time was starting to push at the edges. He knew it would begin to take over soon. He had only used it once so he could put his full force behind it. It wouldn’t last, but it would be enough.

He ran back across the center of the royal hall, careful not to touch anything. He took his place behind Arthur’s chair before. Feet in exactly the same position. His hand came up to touch Arthur’s shoulder and his lips back down to his ear. Slowly, with a push of Merlin’s magic saying _Go!_ everything came back into motion as Merlin squeezed Arthur’s shoulder, and resumed its normal speed.

Arthur let out his breath and resisted the urge to turn his head, but only because Merlin was already so close. Music filled their ears once more and tugged at Merlin, at a place deep within him, urging him to move. He tried to resist, but it was clouding his judgment. “Watch,” Merlin urged him. “It won’t be at once…”

Halig was sliding his lips up and down the instrument, until at once the sounds began to distort and sound broken. The guests started to shift in their seat and Lady Vivian made a noise of clear disgust. Merlin felt the magical pull slowly urge him forward and he closed his eyes. This was what he dreaded most of all. He clenched Arthur’s shoulder more firmly, trying to keep away from the extraordinary, fabulous sounds. At once he loved those sounds and wanted to go and move to them. His hand started to let go, the only reason he did not was the distortion in the music, shaking him out of it lightly and leaving him petrified.

When the sounds failed, Halig glanced curiously at the instrument, then resumed his play. Merlin was frightened that this time it would take hold of him more quickly. The sounds filled the room again, caressing his magic, calling it, summoning it. He let go of Arthur’s shoulder then and took a step, and another. Then suddenly, the device cracked and broke into several pieces, falling apart on the floor. Halig gawked at it. Merlin stopped moving.

When Halig looked up, his eyes met Uther’s. The king stood up. “What is the meaning of this?”

Merlin felt stark relief wash over him. He saw Morgana touched her ears again. She had passed this test and after she opened and closed the small purse at her side, she quickly asked Gwen to fill her goblet. She drank it all at once.

Holden moved forward, behind all the tables until he reached the stage, examining what happened. There was nothing left of the instrument apart from a pile of dust.

“I—I don’t understand!” Halig stammered. He was looking pale.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Uther demanded. It had nothing to do with the paused performance, Merlin knew. His heart was thudding against his ribs and he felt a cold sweat on his back.

As soon as Holden touched Halig’s shoulder, the man doubled over and collapsed onto the ground. His breath was labored.

“Gaius?” Holden called out, but Merlin was ahead of him. He pushed behind the tables and joined Holden at the stage. Halig was clutching at his throat.

“Lay him back down,” Merlin said, keeping calm, as calm as he could be. “Lord Savaric, look at me. Can you breathe?”

Gaius had also gotten up from his seat and moved forward.

“Gaius, do what you can,” Uther said from the dais. But his voice was soon drowned out from the roar of all the guests becoming anxious to find out what happened.

“What do you think it is, Merlin?” Gaius said. Halig was struggling to breathe, rasping through a narrow throat. His lips and tongue were swollen.

“I don’t know, but the reaction is acute. He needs to be brought to the workshop. We can examine him in private.” Merlin looked Halig in the eyes and patted down his pockets, and checked his hands. “He is unharmed otherwise.”

Gaius stood up and put his hands behind his back. “I would like to ask for permission to examine our guest. He has an acute reaction, we may be able to help him if I have the right materials nearby.”

“Yes, at once. Sir Leon, Sir Kay, go with them.” Uther waved his hand dismissively and the two men stood up to help lift the fat man and carry him out of the room.

“Gaius—"

“Don’t worry, Merlin. I understand that you need to serve the guests. Enjoy your evening. I will look after him.”

Merlin watched as the strong knights carried Halig’s body out of the room to be healed in Gaius’ workshop. The poison he had administered was fatal though. It might take up to a day. But it would not relent.

Holden turned to him. “Good work, now get back to your post.”

Merlin blinked at him. And blinked again. “What?”

“I said get back,” Holden pushed, but not with nearly as much venom as usual. Merlin presumed the praise he received was because it was a festive evening for him. He followed the order calmly and walked back, behind all the guests, to the dais behind the thrones and collected himself.

Everything was going according to plan. He hoped so at least. The most important thing left to discover was what Arthur would think of him now. He hadn’t dared to look at him since pausing time, not really. And on top of that witnessing an assassination. The only way he could have allowed Arthur to agree was to ensure it was Arthur’s plan to begin with. And it had worked.

Both for what Arthur knew, as well as what he didn’t.

He regarded Morgana as he picked up his pitcher again. He lifted it to her to ask if she wanted any. She smiled at him, and it was a good smile. Then she shook her head.

She had undergone it beautifully.

  
**\-----75 Arthur-----**

After some time of dining Birger walked back into the hall wearing a winter coat, and his pale face flushed immediately from the sudden impact of heat. Olaf at last stood up and offered a hand to help Lady Vivian out of her chair. “Please keep your seat. We make our departure. Thank you, and may good fortune cross your path. Be healthy and happy.”

Arthur pushed his chair back and announced, “Father, I would like to oversee their departure.”

“Certainly, Alined said he is leaving in the morning, after Godwyn,” Uther said and continued his conversation with Rodor.

As Arthur got up, he glanced at Merlin and tilted his head, beckoning him to follow him out. Just outside the royal hall, Birger stood with several coats, and offered them to Vivian, Olaf, Eda, Arni, and to Gudrun. They all were dressed up and shrugging into their gloves when Arthur joined them.

Olaf put his thick fur coat around his shoulders. “Prince Arthur, follow me out, will you?”

“Of course, my lord,” Arthur said. Merlin got into step behind them.

“It is unfortunate, what has befallen your newest guest. Be sure to give him our best regards when he recovers.”

 _If he recovers_ , Arthur thought. “Naturally. I’m certain he is in good hands with Gaius.”

The king grunted a reply and they descended towards the entrance hall and down the steps into the courtyard. The horses were ready, their breath dissipating in thick clouds. The wooden cart with the thick layers of fur was ready for Vivian to climb into. Arthur now understood why she wouldn’t have been able to ride before. She could fall off any moment. But not anymore.

“Might I offer you one of the riding horses from our stables?” he asked on the spot.

“Nonsense,” Olaf said. “She likes it this way. I get to spoil her.”

“Ah, I see.” Arthur stood to the side and observed at a glance how Vivian climbed onto the cart and how Eda and Merlin were talking quietly. “There’s something I haven’t talked to you about yet.”

“The fact that someone used magic on my daughter?” Olaf offered gruffly.

Arthur paled.

“I came here for peace, because it is important to me. The Jutes, the Saxons, and the Picts are a problem for me, coming from land and from the sea. We fight our battles in the waters too. I need these alliances.”

“Even after all that happened?” Arthur asked. He was somewhat anxious to offend the man, even now.

Olaf took the reins of his horse from Gudrun and turned fully to Arthur. “It is unfortunate to be in a treaty with Alined. I will not _forget_ what he did, but I think of my people and what is right for them.” The king grinned. “Don’t look at me like that, Arthur. I know it was him.”

“He has taken a great casualty.”

“As much as mine would have been, I expect. I do not know whether I owe the gods or magic, but I know this: if it wasn’t for your proper choices, Prince Arthur, I would not see a great future for Camelot. I will not forget it.”

“Thank you, my lord. And, am I to understand that you would be grateful if it was magic?”

“Listen.” A large hand ended up on Arthur’s shoulder and the man’s beard came close to his face as he leaned forward. “Whether your father likes it or not, magic is part of our lands, part of the world. Simply willing them away won’t get rid of them. You would do best to embrace it, and pray you make the right choices.”

“It’s not always easy to know when you are right,” he said with some difficulty. He had killed his father’s guest after the man had been promised home and hearth at the castle.

“You are a man of honor. When you take the throne, if things are much the same, I shall be glad to remain allied.”

He held out his arm for Arthur to shake, which he took and they grinned at one another.

“My dear, are you ready?” he called out to Vivian.

  
**\-----76 Merlin-----**

Merlin stood outside in the freezing cold. He put his scarf tightly around his neck and helped keep the small latch open as Lady Vivian climbed up among the various belongings, and placed herself underneath layers of fur.

“I’m sorry,” Eda said to Merlin suddenly.

“Er, for what?”

“I prayed something would happen to Lord Savaric, even when you told me not to.”

He smiled at her. “Who knows, perhaps he will recover. But he cannot harm you anymore.”

She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck. “He wouldn’t have gotten a second chance,” she said, glancing at Olaf and Arthur talking. “But I am somewhat sorry that we are leaving.”

“Me too, in a way—"

Suddenly Eda tugged on Merlin’s neck scarf and planted a kiss on his cheek.

His eyes went round. “I uh…” He was at a loss for words. “Actually…”

Eda chuckled. “I see, you’ve got someone then…?”

“Um, yes,” he said stupidly. “In town.” He cursed his brain for failing to come up with better words. He hadn’t seen this coming at all.

“Goodness, with you running around she hasn’t seen a great deal of you, has she?”

“Not nearly enough,” he agreed modestly, with a more steady voice this time.

She offered him a cheeky smile and took the reins from Gudrun when he had brought her horse to her. “Take care of yourself, Merlin.” Her cheeks were rosy.

“You too,” he said, and stepped back when Gudrun helped her get mounted.

The party formed a caravan and started trotting out of the gate. Arni was in front, holding up an old lamp to light the way through the town, and one of the guards walked along with them. Arthur came to stand beside Merlin and once they were a good way away, Arthur nudged him in the side.

“Can’t take my eyes off you for _five minutes_ , can I?” he said.

“What? No!” He saw that Arthur was grinning. “I had no idea!” He felt embarrassed.

“D’you fancy her?”

“I might have. Probably. If I didn’t have someone better.” He tilted his head. “In fact—" He stepped forward, in the direction of the caravan, until Arthur grabbed his elbow and held him back.

“You think you can get better?” Arthur’s eyes were full of cheek. They had to be careful though. There were guards stationed, and they would be patrolling too. Dennett or Liam could see them too.

“Not in this lifetime, or the next,” he said with a small smile.

Arthur stared at him, his dark blue eyes only dimly lit by the light coming from the central hall. Shadows played over his face and accentuated the angles across his cheeks and his jaw. And his lips. Merlin looked at him with longing.

“Follow me inside?” Arthur asked. Before Merlin could answer, he was already up the stairs and turning towards his quarters. Merlin jogged after him and they passed various servants, guards, and two drunken knights who were helping each other be sick against a wall.

“Shouldn’t you head back to the feast? It’s not even midnight,” Merlin offered. He knew what was on Arthur’s mind, but also acknowledged what should happen.

“No,” he replied, and slowed his step so they were walking side by side. “And the reason is that the next time I speak to my father, it will be in private and he will tell me exactly what his next plan is. Right now he would only complain at me, and bounce ideas off of me. It will be more effective to meet with him in the morning.”

“You think he’s not going to stop?”

“I know he won’t.”

Arthur pushed into his room and once it was locked behind Merlin, the candles flared up and the hearth sprung to life. And so the heat flared up between them as they wrapped their arms around each other and their lips locked. When Merlin’s hands went up into Arthur’s hair, they met with the coronet. When he groped Arthur’s waist, he was met with mail. He pulled back and made a noise of complaint.

Arthur took his hands away. “Your fingers are freezing.”

“I’m not wearing seventy layers,” he argued.

“And still wearing too many.” Arthur pulled at Merlin’s scarf, dipping his head to push for access into his neck.

“Arthur—ahh… nnh,” he sighed. “We should talk. Really talk. About a lot of things.”

The prince sighed against his neck and took a step back. “Alright. Get me out of this first. I feel like I’m actually wearing seventy layers…”

Merlin snorted and reached up to Arthur’s coronet. Arthur’s hands paused him there and Merlin stared at him doubtfully.

“Just one more,” Arthur demanded and kissed him again.

Merlin made a sound against his lips, but soon found himself giving in. He had no idea how long the ‘just one more’ had lasted before he pulled back, filled with lust and desire. His hand reached down to tease Arthur’s growing erection, only to meet with chainmail once again.

“Remind me not to listen to you,” he said in complaint.

Arthur snickered and lowered his arms at last. He let Merlin take off his coronet, his cloak, the belts, and the tabard. At last he pulled the hauberk over his head and the thick mail puddled onto the floor with a great deal of noise. Merlin proceeded to take off his gambeson, the shirt underneath, and his boots. Though his movements were the same repetition he had done many times before, his eyes feasted at every move. When at last Arthur’s breeches came undone, he stood naked and hard and Merlin wanted him.

“We’re going to talk like this?” Merlin said. He licked his lips absentmindedly.

“Certainly not.” Arthur stepped in and took away his scarf, then with a flick of his hand had undone Merlin’s belts. In one swoop he took off all the combined shirt, overshirt, and jacket Merlin had worn that day and tossed them unceremoniously onto the floor. Before Merlin had even stepped out of his boots, Arthur was already undoing his breeches. Where it had taken nearly twenty minutes to strip Arthur layer by layer, it had taken less than two minutes for Merlin to be entirely unraveled.

“How is this better?” he asked, when he stood naked.

“Because,” Arthur offered, “we’re going to talk after.” He reached out and ducked, intending to lift Merlin up, but Merlin saw him coming and dodged.

“No, Arthur. I’m not some maiden. If you want me to come to your bed, you ask me to.”

A hand came up behind Merlin’s head and Arthur leaned in. He stepped closer and their foreheads touched. Arthur pulled Merlin up against his body so their bodies were flush. Arthur sighed with pleasure, and one of his hands came down to rub over one of Merlin’s nipples, driving all his thoughts away.

“Merlin, will you—"

“Yes, God, yes. Arthur. Shut up…” He kissed Arthur’s chuckle away and followed him to the bed. Before long the sheets were warm from their body heat, rolling around, feeling and tasting each other’s bodies. Merlin loved the way Arthur’s skin felt, the way it smelled. He loved the thick blond hair over his legs, and the lines of the muscles over his thighs. He loved how Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he moaned.

And he absolutely loved how Arthur’s fingers moved inside of him. There was already precious little left of the muscle salve in the jar. Just when he was starting to build up, he paused Arthur’s hand. Arthur’s cheek was against his thigh and a hand was around his cock and he could have gone with it, he could have run with it. But he wanted more.

“Come here, right here.” He wiggled free of Arthur’s ministrations and piled several pillows against the headboard, telling Arthur to sit there. Arthur did so without complaint, entirely mesmerised by Merlin. When he straddled the prince, he felt strong fingers grab his thighs. He grabbed a fist full of Arthur’s hair pulled his head aside, nibbling on his ear, while rubbing against him deliciously.

With a heated gaze, Merlin lowered a hand, held onto Arthur’s cock and lowered himself over it. When he saw that Arthur finally understood, he quickly drowned out his exasperated moan with a hot kiss while pushing down. It wasn’t easy, just like before, though he did his best. It took them some time to get adjusted, and in the meantime Arthur’s fingers were digging roughly into his thighs.

He leaned down to nibble on Arthur’s collarbone, up along the stubble at his neck and towards his ear and whispered. “It’s okay.” The hands relaxed and stroked his abused skin.

“How do I move?” Arthur asked. His legs were stretched on the bed and there wasn’t much room to move.

“You don’t. I do,” Merlin purred into his ear. He saw that Arthur liked it. A lot. Then he moved. He looked down at the muscles over Arthur’s chest as he pulled back up and felt his body stutter, wanting more. It was too hot, he was stretched and filled up, it was perfect. He lowered himself down again and heard the pleasure escape Arthur’s lips in thick gasps.

He’d thought to take control, so that he could make Arthur last. He’d thought to add something slow and delicious to the possibilities. But when Arthur grabbed his cock and started to work him, and grabbed onto his hip, trying to move back up into him, he knew that he would lose himself quickly. Pleasure was already building up and soon he couldn’t stop himself. He picked up the rhythm Arthur prescribed for him and rocked his hips up and down, riding Arthur, feeling him fill him up, and pumping his hand with quick thrusts. He stuck a thumb into Arthur’s mouth, only to have it wordlessly accepted and sucked and before he knew it he threw his head back and spilled all over Arthur’s chest. With one or two more thrusts, Arthur too shivered, stilled, and relaxed, spent and panting.

They kissed for some time before Merlin cleaned them up with the spell. Merlin winced. Twice in a day was not such a good idea, perhaps. And he’d have to come up with something better than muscle salve. Once Merlin had rinsed and washed his face and hands extra, using the available water in the small wash basin, he climbed back into the sheets. Arthur similarly took some time cleaning himself up, put out several of the candles, even if he didn’t have to, and undid the ties of the curtains along the bed posts, to keep the warm air in.

They crawled back under the sheets and Merlin sank against Arthur as he let go of the past days’ events. He was weary and apprehensive of everything they needed to talk about.

“Arthur,” he began.

Arthur was propped up against the same pillows and held an arm around Merlin. His right hand was locked behind Merlin’s knee, holding it up over his own legs. “Mm?”

“You haven’t said anything. About what I did, I mean.”

“About what you showed me?”

“That too,” he said, and leaned his head down and heard Arthur’s heartbeat. It was steady, secure. It didn’t speed up or beat louder. It was just there, grounding him.

“That’s what you did with Tybalt?”

“Yes, we moved through the moments in between. Just like that.”

“I hated having to ask you for that, Merlin,” Arthur began. He looked down at Merlin with a frown. “But I know that sometimes these things need to happen. Are you at risk at all?”

“No. By all accounts, what happened was impossible. They cannot suspect poison because the instrument is gone. The symptoms are the same as several other possibilities. The reaction was too acute to be administered through an earlier meal or any drink.”

“So you’ll be safe?”

“I believe so.”

They were quiet for some time. Arthur spoke first. “Lady Vivian knows.”

“About my magic?”

“And about us.”

Merlin shot upright. “What? How?”

Arthur pulled him back down. “Don’t worry. She’s not telling. After all we are keeping her secret too. She said that she understood you were the one who freed me. From the same fate, I mean.”

“Damn,” Merlin said. He rarely swore but the occasion seemed to fit.

“I will write to them once they have returned home,” Arthur said. And after a few moments he added, “You can write to Eda.” He snickered.

“Shut up. She was nice. Nicer than you. Stronger too…”

“Oy!” He tickled Merlin behind the knee, and Merlin laughed in protest.

Again they were quiet for some time, dozing. Merlin looked up at Arthur and traced a finger along the line of his jaw. “What about your father?”

“What about him?”

“I hate pitting you against him. It can’t be right.”

“I can handle him, for now,” Arthur said. “I already knew he was a paranoid old man. But I’m beginning to see how wrong he is. I’m sure the kingdom needed him when he was in his prime. But now…”

“You can’t speak like that.”

“He’s still my father, Merlin. I won’t forget it.”

“What if he does find out. About either—"

“He won’t.”

“Arthur...” Merlin sat up again and wouldn’t be pulled down this time. “I would give my life for yours, but I do not expect you to do the same.”

“Then you’re an idiot,” Arthur shot back.

“No! Your people need you. Always. You must become king.”

“And I will. What has you so worried. Is it something you can’t tell me?”

Merlin frowned and pressed his lips together. It was so much, it was everything still. Even if Arthur had figured out so much, he had no idea about the Great Dragon, about Morgana, about the various magical groups either vowing to kill him, or to support the man they know as Emrys. He had no idea about the prophecy that lead to his death.

“Is this about the Lady of the Lake? You still haven’t told me what that meant.”

Merlin blinked. “What? Oh…” He pushed away his nerves and lay back down. He hoped that Arthur wouldn’t press further. “No, she’s actually very nice. She lives in a lake.”

“Well, that's _obvious_.”

“No I mean, inside of it.”

“That’s what I mean with obvious,” Arthur said and stretched.

“I’d like for you to meet her one day,” he said quietly. He rubbed his face, thinking back to that time when he had to let go of Freya. Now at last, he might have had revenge for her. Not that he would have sought it, but he got it nonetheless.

“So, what’s this about you being Journeyman all of a sudden?”

“It was Lady Vivian’s idea. I didn’t know that they would announce it.” He craned his head to look at Arthur. “I wanted to tell you…”

“Next time, you better do that. I don’t want to feel like a fool.”

“That’s hardly got anything to do—NO!” Arthur was starting to tickle him again.

“How can we be doing this?” Arthur asked, when he ended up lying on top of Merlin and staring down to him. “When a man lies dying.”

“Celebration?” Merlin offered sheepishly.

“I only hope it’s over after this. I want to get to know you, the real you.”

“You already know me.” Merlin frowned.

“I’m not trying to pry. But I want to know. Stories from Ealdor. Who taught you how to write. Who cast you away and hurt you so?”

“What?”

“Someone hurt you. When I locked you away...” He stroked through Merlin’s hair. It was as obstinate as the look Merlin gave him. “Someone did something to you.” Arthur rolled off him and offered him some space.

“There was something, yeah,” Merlin acknowledged at last.

“Can you tell me?”

Merlin propped himself onto a pillow and stared down. The memory of it still roused painful feelings. “His name was Julius, no doubt his ancestors were Roman or something. He was, er, strong, handsome. Lived two villages down, but came over to ours frequently for heavy work in the fields. I basically followed him everywhere.” He sighed. “I was no help of course. Obviously. He laughed at me for it.”

Arthur regarded him. “Was he your first?” His eyes did not judge.

Merlin continued, “In a way. He must have figured out I had fallen for him, somehow. Probably someone told him. I only told two people in secret, so one of them must have… Anyway. One day I see him sitting by the river, he’s naked. And he’s, um, jerking off.” Arthur’s eyes widened. Merlin continued, “So he asks me if I want to do it for him. Of course, I did.”

“Then what happened?”

“He left. He didn’t do anything for me. He just went home. The next time I saw him he laughed in my face. He was standing near his friends and he made them laugh at me. They made gestures, propositions, and threw slurs at me for some time, and each time they traveled through Ealdor afterwards. Even my mother found out.”

“What did she say?”

“She just wanted me to be safe. I thought she’d be angry or something but...” 

“Did Will know?” Arthur pressed.

“Yeah, he was a real ass about it.”

“What about girls? Who was your first?”

“Why do you want to know about that?” Merlin scoffed.

“I just do. It’s a part of you.”

He sighed and tried not to make a grin form on his lips. Arthur looked at him with intrigue, his eyebrows lifting. “I don’t remember her name,” he started.

“I didn’t know you were one of those, _Mer_ lin.”

“No, I was young. She was older, quite a bit. She had really nice…” His hands formed the shape of breasts. Big ones.

“You’re really into that, aren’t you?” Arthur remarked.

“Into what?”

Arthur climbed over him and laughed wildly while he rubbed his pecs all over Merlin’s face who sputtered and squawked in complaint.

“God, your face, Merlin,” Arthur said laughing. He touched Merlin’s reddened cheek with the back of his fingers and chuckled.

“Shut up!” he whined.

Arthur gathered Merlin onto him and grinned up at him. “I’m not even wrong.”

Merlin sighed with feigned exasperation but let himself be placed on top of the prince. He had no resistance left. Everything he did, everything he was, was for Arthur.

“When Halig is gone, when he is dead,” Merlin said contemplatively. He heard Arthur sigh, expecting his question. “I’ll move back to my room.”

“Yes, it must be.”

Merlin looked down at Arthur and shook his head. Now that he finally had it, he didn’t want to let go. It had cost him so much to just accept this, and he _wanted_.

“We will find moments, Merlin. We will.” Arthur embraced him and held him tight. They fell asleep as they lay, only shifting into more comfortable positions a long while later and half asleep. The night took over and caught them in its deep embrace.

  
**\-----77 Arthur-----**

They woke to a knock on the door. From the other side, Gwen announced that King Godwyn would be departing in an hour. Prince Arthur would be required to attend, but first Uther had business for them. Arthur lifted his head out of the pile of blankets and said he’d be down soon. Languidly, he got up from the bed with a headache and rubbed his face. He looked back to see Merlin still sleeping, with his face turned away, clutching the blankets across his chest. It put a smile on his face.

He was halfway dressed in his thick leather breeches, riding boots, blue shirt, and black velvet doublet when Merlin suddenly sat upright in bed. His hair was stubbornly keeping the shape of the pillows. Arthur grinned as Merlin sought out his breeches and half-fastened its laces, before turning to Arthur. He wordlessly helped him close up his buttons and cuffs and pulled the tight-fitting black velvet doublet over his arms. It was starting to become uncomfortable and Arthur needed a new one.

As Merlin pulled a dark brown belt around his waist they shared a small kiss. It was light, without pressure. Merlin still hadn’t dressed properly and Arthur looked him over. Merlin reached up a hand and touched Arthur’s cheek, staring at him. Arthur wondered if they had time for anything. He wanted to.

But when he leaned in again, Merlin ducked back right at the last moment. He said, “I’ve got to shave you. I can’t let you out of this room like this…”

Arthur sighed and nodded. “Fine. I should look the part as I finish the valediction.”

Merlin moved to open the curtains part way and pulled Arthur’s desk chair out. He gathered the basin with water, a small towel, and the razor. Arthur sat down in his chair and lifted his chin up. Merlin stood beside him and instead of shaving him, held Arthur’s head against his chest and gazed down. Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers roaming over his cheek and his chin. He had shaved him many times, but Merlin had never touched him like this. He knew he should talk to his father before saying goodbye to Godwyn.

“Merlin, you should…”

“Mhm.”

Slowly the razor was pushed across his cheek, diligently chasing the scruff and Merlin took extreme care with his gestures. Arthur regarded Merlin, as he concentrated on placing the sharp blade at the right angle. There was something about the way Merlin’s fingers touched his face, that stirred something in his gut. He was thoroughly enjoying it.

Merlin cleaned the razor and moved around the chair, but instead of moving to the other side he climbed onto Arthur’s lap, with a leg on each side. Arthur didn’t resist; instead he gathered him into his arms and pulled his body against him, leaning his head back to look up at him. Merlin still hadn’t put his shirt on, and his chest felt warm against his doublet.

“Last night,” he said, recalling their position. “I think it’s my favorite.”

Merlin stared down at him with the razor in his hand. He brushed a thumb over Arthur’s lip and broke into a smile. His eyes crinkled at the corners and turned into crescents. “I’m glad you liked it. There’s more, I’ll show you more.”

He smiled, and his mind wandered, thinking of what it could be. He was starting to come up with ideas of his own. He wanted to be good for Merlin. He wanted to be better than anyone else Merlin had been with. He took it as a personal challenge.

When Merlin continued shaving him, Arthur pressed his body up against him and when Merlin rocked back, it started something hot and passionate. Merlin pushed Arthur's chin up with two fingers and shaved his neck. He was left groping Merlin’s body, his back and sides down to his bum, without being able to see what he was doing. It was such a tease. All the while the razor sharp blade scraped down his neck. He couldn’t move. He held onto Merlin’s hips and indecently rode up against him.

“Nng, Arthur,” Merlin moaned. He took the razor away and rode him. “There isn’t time,” he breathed.

He felt that Merlin was hard against him, and he undid his laces, taking his cock out. Merlin gasped a sigh, but didn’t stop him. It was obscene and delicious. He stroked Merlin’s cock up and down with his hand, long and tight, feeling Merlin’s arms leaning on his shoulders for balance.

His other hand fondled Merlin’s balls through his breeches, which earned him another sharp gasp. Merlin’s head was resting against his own, and Merlin panted right into his ear. At last he latched onto one of his nipples with his mouth.

Merlin moaned loudly and came into Arthur’s pumping hand, spilling his seed all over Arthur’s black doublet. After a violent shiver through his body, Merlin sat back and looked at the damage. He gulped and blushed.

Arthur was satisfied at this and let go of Merlin’s cock. “You can sort this, right?” Arthur asked hoarsely.

“Yes,” he breathed. There was a flash of gold in his eyes, which lasted longer than usual. “We should think these things through. Someone might have heard me…”

“Are you going to finish up?” Arthur asked. Merlin blushed and got off his lap. His hands went up to Arthur’s breeches to start pulling them down, but Arthur said, “I meant shaving me.”

“I want to,” Merlin said, eyeing the bulge in Arthur’s leather breeches. “Can I?”

“We don’t have long,” Arthur said.

Merlin took it as approval and Arthur shifted in his desk chair, ensuring his breeches were lowered enough for Merlin to—

The razor dropped to the ground.

Merlin had him in his mouth before Arthur even knew what was going on.

He leaned back in the chair and placed his hands on Merlin’s bare shoulders. Merlin’s tongue was working him with intent, making it wet, slick, and rock-hard. He looked down and saw that Merlin hadn’t put himself back into his breeches yet and his half-hard cock was still out. It overwhelmed Arthur with lust, and he bit his lip to stay quiet when Merlin’s mouth moved over his cock, taking him in, making the head sensitive and needing more.

And Merlin gave more, taking him all the way, deeper than Arthur thought possible and he sighed in delight.

Everything Merlin did with his mouth took him out of the world and lifted him higher. Merlin worked him with his mouth and his hand together, building up to something and, occasionally, torturously pausing. His body was hot and ached for more. Each time the attention to his cock was longer between pauses, and Arthur closed his eyes in concentration.

He let himself be taken by it and thrust back up into his mouth. Merlin seemed to like that, opening his eyes to stare up at him. It was the look Merlin gave him, of passionate concentration, that pushed him close to the edge.

He put a hand into Merlin’s black hair and moaned his name. The other took it as a sign and started a steady pace, long and deep, into which Arthur could roll his hips and feel himself slide in and out of Merlin’s mouth, while being gripped by Merlin’s fingers tightly. All of a sudden it was all too much and he grasped at his hair, bucked, and pressed deep inside of Merlin’s throat and felt himself spill. Merlin swallowed it all.

He was panting heavily and felt a sweat had built up along his back, his shirt sticking to it. This wasn’t exactly how he planned to go out and start the day.

“You’re right, we should…” But Merlin had got to his feet and silenced his words with a short, forceful kiss. He pulled his breeches back up and watched Merlin do the same. The razor was picked up and Merlin deftly rid his jaw and the underside of his neck of any remaining bristles, finishing the job in minutes. Arthur held a towel to his face and brushed off the remaining loose hairs with it before checking the result in the looking glass like he usually did. And it was perfectly done, as usual. He got up to finish dressing, thinking about everything Merlin had done for him over the years.

“I want you to look at something today,” he said, while Merlin pulled a brush through his hair. “Will you see if Roslyn and Manath’s story is still there? That Holden didn’t get to it?” Merlin’s eyes met his directly then and he nodded gravely. “I’ll say goodbye to Godwyn. Then I will meet Alined at The Crossroads later today. I have the scroll offering Hilde official control as Town Leader ready.”

He pulled Merlin into an embrace, and Merlin folded his arms around his neck. He loved how Merlin had become so fully pliant, how it was no longer a struggle. He had dreaded the trip to The Crossroads and the political talks that would be involved. But Merlin’s affirming grip, and the warmth of his relaxed body against him, gave him the courage he needed. Merlin believed in him. He always had.

“Make sure you help Dennett and Liam at the stables today. I aim to be back before dark.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said softly.

“Don’t do that,” Arthur said, nuzzling Merlin’s neck.

“Do what?”

“You don’t have to say that in private. I notice you haven’t in some time.”

“It’s fine, Arthur, I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not okay.” He pulled him tighter. There were things he wanted to say, but he didn’t know the right words or the right way to say them. Everything Merlin had done for him in the past years, put up with him, knocked sense into him; everything had been with the utmost care and diligence. And all because Merlin knew that Arthur should be king one day. _Would_ be king. He knew that Merlin’s belief in him had pushed him to become a better person. He had always enjoyed it when Merlin chided him, but he had never grasped the bigger picture. He was trying now, he wanted to try harder. He needed to show Merlin, prove to him that he was beginning to understand.

“Merlin, I…”

He had no time to complete his sentence, because there was another knock on the door with George announcing breakfast.

  
***

With some minutes to spare, though not as many as he had calculated, he walked into his father’s bedroom. He was composed and felt confident to complete the tasks for the day ahead. Holden held the door open for him. “Father, what is the latest news?”

On the way there he had imagined the various scenarios. Either his father had figured it out, had known which person to finally single out and provide proof, or he had no idea where to make his next move. The first scenario would be bad for Arthur, the second one equally so. His father would ask his help in destroying whatever was left of the magic use, despite already having burned a boy and placed the kings on the board how he wanted them, or so the man thought. Arthur presumed that Rodor was going to be a great ally, and Olaf would indulge him, but he wasn’t so certain of the others.

The hasty departure of the kings would not sit well with Uther, he knew. They all longed to go home after their visit and, truthfully, Arthur longed to have them gone. He was eager to pick up training with the knights again. He hadn’t had enough time to drill them in the past few days and he was pretty certain their minimum amount of discipline would wane the very instant the noble men found booze, cards, and women.

The younger and lower ranked knights still hadn’t had any proper apology for their dismissal, nor any word of when their chambers would be returned to them. He would need to take some time to talk with his father about that too. If his father was in the mood for it. It all depended on whether Halig was alive or dead.

Uther was seated in his chair by the window. The small bowl of candied fruit lay untouched before him. Arthur startled when he noticed that Gaius was in the room. His skin prickled with sudden awareness of the possible response. Any thoughts about the knights fled his mind. He was aware that although Gaius knew the sort of man Halig was, Arthur had no idea whether he would have peace with the man’s demise, or if he even knew it was murder.

“Prince Arthur, I’m afraid Lord Savaric expired this morning. I tried everything, but the reaction was too strong.”

“What?!” Arthur tried to bring forward as outraged as possible. “The man seemed fine last night! What happened?”

“It was magic, it must have been,” Uther said.

Gaius put his hands behind his back. “My lord, I told you that is out of the question. The man was poisoned.”

“You said it was impossible,” Uther remarked sharply.

“Unless he administered it himself, but I have trouble seeing why he would do such a thing,” Gaius offered. “He seemed like a very happy man.”

“What do you mean impossible?” Arthur said, playing his part.

“Well, there are only three possible poisons with this effect, and all of them would show signs within seconds of their ingestion.”

“I don’t understand,” Arthur said. “Savaric played for several minutes.” He used the man’s fake name because neither of the men before him knew that the other was aware that Arthur knew of his real identity. “It’s not possible.”

“Indeed it is not. Unfortunately we could not undo the damages. I eased his suffering as much as I could—"

Gaius’ words were interrupted by Uther’s gloved hand slamming on the table. “The kings are leaving and they are taking magic with them. Despite the treaties being signed, despite all our efforts!”

“Is there nothing you can do, father?” Arthur asked, though it tore through him like a hot spear.

“I’m afraid there is very little one can do,” Gaius sighed.

The king looked away from all of them. Arthur knew he was beyond patience, exasperated at being outdone by someone else, and unwilling to concede even the slightest.

“Arthur, I want you to speak with the kings. There are several departures today. Find out who did this.” Uther looked at Arthur hard.

“Yes, father.” He bowed. A nervous feeling settled in his gut at the request.

“And if you find out who did this,” Uther said, “I want you to execute the law immediately.”

  
***

The courtyard was a merry gathering over twenty-five horses and various carts as well as servants and knights, chaotically aiming to get themselves sorted for the long journey back. Arthur had never seen anything as uncoordinated in his life. Apart from Merlin in the training field, of course.

“King Godwyn!” Arthur greeted him with a pleasant smile.

The grey-haired man sat atop his horse, looking slightly hung-over, despite his beautifully made clothes and the long cloak covering his back, and most of the horse’s back too. “Good morning, Arthur. I’m glad you made it on time.”

“Duty always calls,” Arthur answered vaguely. “I hope you will have pleasant travels.”

“I doubt we will, but I thank you all the same. You lot are well situated here, I must say. Hm, yes.” His eyes wandered the castle’s architecture, suddenly lost in thought. “I don’t suppose you have heard about your performer yet?” Godwyn peered at him.

“I’m afraid I have had the news, and it is not good.”

“Well,” Godwyn said, “in that case I do hope you find out who did it. I would not stand for it if I were Uther. But I’m certain he is on top of it.”

“I shall tell him your encouraging words,” Arthur mentioned. “And I look forward to seeing you next time.” He was not intending to make any in-depth inquiries at all. These were his moments to make amends for the way Uther had treated these men, and build the bonds for the future. This was his true duty to Camelot.

“Yes, you shall meet my daughter Elena,” Godwyn replied pleasantly. “I just know that she will be eager to meet you, Prince Arthur.”

He smiled, despite the aversion building up within him. “Naturally,” he answered and bowed. He really hadn’t done a lot to secure his father’s request, but he would have something to report and that was good enough. “When you have arrived, might I ask you to write to me with everything you know about that lost temple in the mountains?”

“You are interested in warring against the druids in the territory?”

“Well, it does border our lands. Perhaps we should be aware of what they are up to. Face them, if necessary. While respecting your borders, naturally.”

“Very well, Prince Arthur. I shall make inquiries and send you all I know. Your aid in the region will be appreciated, especially so that the commoners will be more subdued.”

With a lot of hasty goodbyes the entire following left through the gate, and the castle already started to feel more like normal. Arthur called out to Liam and tasked him with saddling his new horse.

  
***

When Arthur arrived at The Crossroads, Thorunn felt like he had only just warmed up. He eagerly galloped through the muddy roads and seemed in a good mood even when Arthur dismounted him at the stables at the Seven Seasons Inn. The shops were open and people were yelling for their services. There was a vast deal more trade than the previous time Arthur visited, and he felt satisfied.

Perrin took the horse from him and together they guided the beast into the stables. “How have you and your mother been?” he asked.

“She won’t let me play outside late,” the boy complained. “But she is the best mom. Of all the moms.” He was very sincere in his statement and Arthur chuckled.

“No more monsters?”

“No, they stay away now.”

“Very good,” Arthur said and after they brushed the animal down, he followed the boy inside. He was glad to see that the inn had only a few guests that day. Tybalt sat near the hearth and was playing with a cup and ball, trying to catch the ball on a rope in a cup, and failing most of the time. But he stuck to it. Arthur passed him and walked straight to the kitchens where he knocked on the old wooden door.

“Not now, Perrin. Oh! Prince Arthur?” Hilde emerged wearing a large apron around her large body and bowed before the prince.

“Please, I don’t mean to put you at unease. I wanted to let you know that I’ve arrived. I’ll be taking the boy out of your hair today.”

“Oh, he’s been a delight. Much better behaved than mine,” she said with a gap-toothed grin.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it, I think. In the meantime I want to let you know that all the approvals have come in. You’re still up to take over leadership over the town, right?”

“Someone’s got to,” she said matter-of-factly while wiping her hands on her apron. “I’d be glad to sort this bunch out. It’s high time for some discipline.” At that moment Perrin ran past her yelling something unintelligible, and she pointed to refer to him as example.

Arthur offered her the scroll and they went over the details on it, discussing such things as laws, trade, taxes, justice, permissions, and when to contact Camelot and their soldiers for help. He spoke about magic as being forbidden and he dismissed saying anything about literacy at all. They reached their agreement within the hour and it was just in time to hear a cacophony of hooves through the town and Perrin running to them yelling about big men arriving on horses.

“This will be my meeting. Thank you, Hilde. I will call for him just now.”

He pushed through the rather small door and entered the central road of The Crossroads, seeing Alined’s caravan pull up beneath the tree where Urien was hanged. They spotted him and waited. Alined dismounted from his beautiful black mare and Trickler from his donkey.

“My lord,” Arthur said and bowed. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.”

“Stop playing, Arthur,” the man sneered. “How did you do it?”

“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you,” he lied. “You are not the only one with some magic at your disposal. Only I choose it when it means saving someone, not sentencing them to death. Or do you think I’ve forgotten?”

Trickler stepped forward then and while he tried to glare, Arthur saw that he didn’t have it in him to stare down a prince. He still pursed his lips and held out a large silver coin. It was round and decorated with strange symbols unlike Arthur had ever seen. “I already left magic behind. This was given to me by my late wife. She was the real sorceress.”

“Are you giving this to me now?” Arthur asked.

“Yes, I am.”

Arthur frowned and stared at the coin. “You have my interest, don’t get me wrong. But why should I trust you?” He didn’t pick it up from Trickler’s outstretched hand.

“This is a Sidhe token, it will assist in amplifying Sidhe magic. She received it after saving one of their lives.”

“I don’t know Sidhe magic to be particularly helpful,” he added.

“Prince Arthur, I know you want to know what happened, but—"

“You’re damned right I want to know what happened. You used this on me and Lady Vivian?” He didn’t care that the other servants were there to hear. Their party was small and they probably already knew anyway.

“I did,” Trickler announced, with a small glance towards Alined. “But it went wrong. I wasn’t strong enough to properly complete the spell. It was flawed. You should not have weakened so quickly. It was unexpected…”

“You’ve dabbled into things you do not understand,” Arthur said.

“For my son,” Trickler explained. He held the engraved coin out to Arthur.

“I’m not sure I should take this from you,” he repeated. Arthur studied the man. “It’s probably wrought with danger. You have all taken great risks. King Alined has shown you great loyalty by not calling your name when my father asked it to set Tybalt free. He probably knew that my father would see both of you burn.”

“Trickler,” Alined pointed at the saddlebag. “It’s time to hand it back.”

Trickler turned to his donkey and opened the saddlebag and took out a cloth pouch containing a large leatherbound book. It was the very one Geoffrey had broken his head over. Arthur took it from Trickler and read the cover. It was about Sidhe magic. “Are you telling me you were trying to understand where it went wrong?”

“Yes,” Trickler said. “I thought to save Vivian… if I must make a choice between magic and my family, I know what it is. You have to believe me.”

“Then I accept your apology.” He took the bag and saw with some misgivings that Trickler placed the coin in the bag as well. “King Alined, will you tell me why you intended to make him your heir, though? Why did you claim that he was your son? I have a pretty strong feeling that this man here is telling the truth.”

Alined walked up to Arthur, aiming to intimidate him. His stare was of particular strength, and he reeked of last night’s ale. Arthur didn’t flinch. “It’s not your business.”

“My lord,” Trickler said, “it’s fine.”

“Shut up, Trickler.”

“I just want him back,” Trickler hissed to his lord, his eyes flashing in fear, as he clearly expected a beating.

Alined regarded Trickler for several moments, hoisted up his belt and turned to Arthur. “Very well. The woman I married was a noble woman. Only, she was already married. She was his wife, before she became mine, of sort.”

“You mean you bedded her?” Arthur clarified, crossing his arms.

“We were in love,” Alined said. With the man’s current state of repulsion, Arthur doubted that, but Trickler was nodding in agreement.

“We were separated, we were only raising Tybalt.” Trickler scratched his neck and looked at Arthur eagerly.

“So,” Arthur began as he tried to put the pieces together, “this woman who was Tybalt’s mother, and a sorceress, married Trickler and then, afterwards, bound herself to you? She was about to have your child, wasn’t she?”

“A sickness took hold of her. No amount of magic could help her. She died before… Seven months…” Alined’s usual sneer was replaced by real pain.

Arthur began to understand the extent of Alined’s depression, why he looked and smelled so poorly. He had very little love for himself and was willing to risk all to have some sense of glory and achievement returned to him. “So, Tybalt is your closest link to her. And he would be noble if he were yours,” Arthur added. “You will go through with it, won’t you?”

“Yes, he is like a son to me too. Now bring him to me, Arthur.”

Arthur looked down and grinned. “You make a strange family. But I think he will be in good hands. He is clever, too. You will have to change his name, though. For your sake as well as mine.”

“Of course,” Alined said.

Arthur was already on his way back to the Seven Seasons Inn. He ducked his head inside and within seconds Tybalt emerged at the door. He was well-fed and warm from sitting by the fire. When he saw his father and the king, he ran to them immediately. Trickler enveloped his son in a crushing hug.

“What about the innkeeper?” Alined asked.

“She won’t require recompense. I called him William.” Arthur shrugged.

“Do you like that name, William?” Trickler asked him. Tybalt nodded. “Okay, we will call you that from now then, if my lord agrees?”

Alined nodded. “William is a good name.”

Arthur grinned at them and put his arm out to Alined. “We should be allies, Alined. I will try to ensure we stay that way. If I can have your faith, then I shall accept it gladly.”

It took several moments for Alined to weigh it over but at last he conceded and shook Arthur’s arm. “I don’t know about your father, Arthur. I have a feeling he will disappoint before long. But with you, I will do business.” They shook arms and Arthur let go, stepping back for them to mount.

Alined looked down at Arthur from his large horse. “There is one more piece of business I want to address. You have sent out letters seeking for a man named Lancelot.”

Arthur glanced at Trickler. He had asked the man to send them out. He hadn’t assumed the letters to be particularly confidential, but he was surprised nonetheless. “What of it?”

“This man, I know him. He has been in Deorham for some months now, riding with a band of Sarmatian assassins. I will charge him with attending your court at once.”

Arthur’s raised his eyebrows. “I would be very grateful, my lord.”

“What has he done?” Alined asked.

“It’s not so much about what he has done, but about what he will do,” Arthur assured him with a smile. “Much like your son, William.”

Alined reached to his side belt and threw Arthur a pouch filled with coins.

“My lord, I’m not taking this,” Arthur said.

“I haven’t got much. Take it.”

“I already understand your gratitude. This is too much.” He looked at the coins lying at the top of the bag and his jaw worked as he formed a plan. “I’ll just take a few,” he said and smiled. “In the spirit for reunions, that is.” And he threw the rest of the pouch back.

After the boy William was hoisted into his thick winter coat, extracted from the packing, and lifted onto his horse, the caravan resumed its way. Arthur hoped that none would be the wiser and William would grow up to be an honest man. He didn’t have the best examples, but he had all the opportunity to achieve greatness by himself.

  
**\-----78 Merlin-----**

After writing the letter to his mother at Arthur’s desk to tell her about his promotion, he gathered his courage and set off to Gaius’ workshop, idly wondering at the reverse journey the start of that day brought him. The hallways were quieter, pieces of furniture were being extracted, and Holden was orchestrating a massive cleaning spree, it seemed, as there were many buckets with fresh water being brought into the kitchens. The corridors smelled of lavender, rose petals, and fennel for cleaning out the rooms. They even brought out the lye soap for all the sheets and to scrub the floors with. Merlin was glad he was not a scullion.

He escaped the bustle, remaining unremarkable to the people he passed and slipped into the western tower. He didn’t want to be anywhere public any more than he wanted to face Gaius’ scrutiny. The small flask of poison was safely tucked inside his pocket once more.

He knew he had become better at lying, he’d had to. He needed to calm his nerves and keep a straight face. Despite everything Gaius meant to him, this hadn’t been a moment he’d saved Arthur from death, this was an assassination. He knew Gaius wouldn’t accept it. The old man would have been perfectly fine with the Nine Whistles being destroyed, until the next problem turned up. But Halig’s investigations would lead him to him or Morgana eventually. And it meant that Arthur was embracing magic, ordering Merlin to execute a strategic move. It was important.

Had he been wrong in his orchestration? Was it simply his personal vengeance for Freya after all, or did he truly believe he had saved several lives? If the Nine Whistles hadn’t been destroyed, the man might have figured out the ring was magic and then Gaius would be the next target. Uther would have drawn the man aside to ask him everything he thought, and would have _believed_ him, and it would be just like when Aredian made his perverse discoveries.

“Good morning, Gaius,” he greeted cheerfully, aiming for neutrality.

His master was kneeling on the floor in front of a very old woman, bandaging up a sore on her leg. Gaius stood up and helped the woman to her feet. Merlin stepped aside to offer Gaius room to help her out of the workshop. They went slow and Gaius prescribed her the application of fresh bandages daily. Merlin pushed the poison flask through the air, back into the secret compartment when Gaius wasn’t looking, and closed the compartment panel with a magical swish, then turned back to Gaius innocently.

“Who was that?” Merlin asked, hoping for normalcy. He kept himself calm and collected, and stilled his rapid heartbeat in order to get through this moment.

“Her name is Dunnlaith and she has been living in the city since before Uther’s time,” he responded. He was looking at Merlin with a steady gaze. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No? I need to help out at the stables today, but I wanted to see if you needed anything first,” he said lightly and without betraying anything on his face. It was what he would have done if there had been no murder.

“You’re not going to ask me about Halig?”

Merlin felt a sweat on his palms and a ripple of cold traveling down his spine. While his chest constricted, he pushed for a normal voice, and with the greatest effort he produced, “Well he’s not here, so I assume he’s going over new plans with Uther?”

Gaius looked Merlin up and down, lifting an eyebrow. When Merlin refrained from responding to that too, he relented at last and said, “No. He’s dead!”

“What?” Merlin managed to bring out.

“You mean to tell me you had nothing to do with this?” Gaius folded his arms.

“To do with _what_?”

“Halig’s poisoning! Unless he administered it himself, there is no way he could have died like he did.”

“You expect me to have answers to that? I have no idea what happened!”

“He expired this morning, despite my treatment.”

“This morning? Who took him away?”

“The king. In person, I might add. Well, with a following of guards, but you know my meaning.” Gaius was still regarding Merlin through his eyeglasses with a piercing gaze. But Merlin didn’t budge.

“I’m just glad the Nine Whistles is destroyed. You did a great job with that, Gaius. You’ve saved my life, and Morgana’s too.” He smiled at Gaius. It was the truth. He had convinced Halig to wear the ring, as a gift. And it had meant that Merlin and Morgana could both attend the dinner and escape any further inspection. Merlin’s repayment for his rescue was perhaps a poor one indeed.

Gaius pressed something into Merlin’s hand. It was Trickler’s ring. “I do not want to keep hold of this. Hide it somewhere, Merlin.”

“Yes, Gaius.”

“And stay out of Uther’s way. He’s very unpleasant today.”

  
***

Merlin had spent the following two hours clearing out the stables. There had been so many horses from Godwyn’s party that waste had piled up neck deep. A whole cart had been loaded up with it. Liam had worked just as hard as him, but they were both out of breath by the time the stables were cleaned out. Dennett was grateful to them and offered them a piece of his wife’s pie. He had taken to feeding Liam bits of his own food when he could, since he hadn’t been able to pay the boy for the past week’s work.

“Only Rodor’s horses are left, and then we can really think about repairs,” Dennett said. “He’s departing now. Liam, on your way.” The boy shot a dirty look but went to get Rodor’s horses, and the ones for his small traveling party. Rodor and his men were riding in full armor and would be crossing dangerous territory once more.

Merlin finished his piece of pie, it really was very good, and decided against licking his fingers, considering the state of his hands. “Are you beginning with the repairs soon?”

Dennett turned to Merlin with a sigh. “If I can get just a few extra hands, we’ll get this fixed.”

“Oh, yes,” Merlin offered simply. He found a rag and brushed the dirt off his hands as best he could.

“Prince Arthur said he would help me.” Dennett nodded.

Liam passed them with Rodor’s horse and snapped, “He’s said things before. He said I would do well, serving Caridoc.”

“Sir Caridoc,” Dennett chided him. “And I think the man made a big mistake.”

“I dropped his armor,” Liam said with cheek. “Maybe on purpose.”

Merlin looked at him sideways. His legs felt like lead and he leaned against the cart. The fork which he’d used to lift all the dung into the cart shoved in his direction and threatened to spill its last filthy hay all over him, but he jumped out of its way right at the last moment.

“There is the prince now,” Dennett called out, looking over Merlin’s shoulder. “What on earth?”

Merlin spun around and saw Arthur riding through the gate, on his powerful Sarmatian horse. He gaped at the prince. For a moment he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and his heart made a small jump. He couldn’t believe it.

Beside Arthur, on loose reins, Arthur was leading Royse into the courtyard. He had brought _Royse_ back. He clamped his hands over his mouth, trying to hide his grin.

Arthur passed him, only briefly glancing in his direction. There was a smile on his face and he looked satisfied with Merlin’s reaction. Merlin felt butterflies in his stomach at the realization. Meanwhile, Liam returned to sit on the cart full of waste next to Merlin, so he straightened his face again. Of course Arthur hadn’t literally gotten him a horse, he knew that perfectly well. But he had gotten the horse _for_ him, because he loved him. He was certain. Merlin forgot to breathe.

When Arthur halted Thorunn in front of Dennett and dismounted, he explained that Royse couldn’t be missed and he had the beast back, bought and paid for. He offered Dennett the roan’s papers back and took a dusty travel bag out of Thorunn’s pouch. He also added several coins for Liam’s week of work, pressing them into Dennett’s hand.

“Oh, my lord. I am very grateful. Liam has worked very hard. Haven’t you, Liam?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy shouted, from his seated position. Arthur snorted.

“In that case, how about a year’s wages? If you’re interested, that is, Liam.” This time the boy got up from the cart, and sped over to Dennett and Arthur. He bowed submissively and looked at the golden coins Arthur was holding out. “Do you think you could survive the coming year as Dennett’s hand? If you say yes, I want to see you do your best every day. And I intend to expand the stables a great deal, so you’d better be ready for this.”

Liam looked at Dennett hopefully and the old man nodded at him. “Yes, sire. I mean, I want to.”

Merlin snickered. Arthur offered Dennett the money and told him, “Make sure Liam doesn’t get it all at once. He’s going to have to prove himself.”

Then Arthur turned round to Merlin at last and walked up to him. Merlin felt like he was floating on a cloud. He wanted to kiss him, do all sorts of things to him.

“You can stop grinning like an idiot now,” Arthur said.

“Yes, sire.” Merlin grinned.

“You were right,” Arthur said, he couldn’t help responding with a smile of his own. “That Sarmatian horse rides very fast indeed. They are strong. I want to get more of these. Next year, we’ll expand the fields and we’ll train the knights for riding. I’m certain they would pay good money for the beasts.”

“They will have something else to compete for,” Merlin offered. “It’d be good for the tournaments too.”

Arthur handed Merlin the dusty travel bag. “I need you to bring this inside inconspicuously. It’s Geoffrey’s book, and something else. I need you to stow it away extremely well, can you do that?”

“Of course, sire.”

Arthur nodded and thought about how to sell the idea of the stables to his father. He put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “Was it still there?”

“It was.”

“Have you read it?”

“Not yet. I will, I promise. When everything has returned to normal.”

“I don’t know if I like normal. I think together we manage chaos admirably.”

  
***


	6. Lost Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana is sought out by Morgause for seemingly malicious purposes, intended in Uther’s direction. At the same time the Knights of Medhir form a danger to Camelot and to Arthur. Merlin must dodge many problems at once in order to save everyone. Merlin and Arthur experience some role reversal.

  
**\-----79 Morgana-----**

It had been several weeks since the four guest kings had left the citadel. A mute tranquility had settled over the household. The winter had enveloped them in layers of snow for some weeks, blanketing Camelot in pure serenity, before relenting at last and warming up again. To Morgana it was all the same.

Because of the poor weather and the lack of guests, her daily business had consisted of reading, lessons from Geoffrey, and joining her father and Arthur for dinner. Her position at the council meetings had been deemed unnecessary as soon as the household had returned to normal, and she had not had an invitation since. Her function once more was diminished to one simply of beauty and pacification. Uther had implicitly bound her to her tower once more.

What he didn’t know was how much Morgana hated him for this dismissal, as well as for each other decision he made. A quiet, rebellious resentment had been burning away within her for some years, but it had recently transformed to outright hatred and would not relent. It roared within her.

She felt unnecessary being locked up and lorn.

She sat in her chambers overlooking the courtyard and played with her bracelet. It was one of the few links to the outside world she possessed. Anything else, her dresses, her food and drink, her books, had all been offered to her from within. She had no family or relatives to visit, she received few letters. Her vague friends were political acquaintances who wrote to her for form, rather than any real bond.

Morgana longed for her old home where she had been a lord’s daughter, and carefree and truly loved. She wanted, needed to get out of the citadel. She needed to fight, to bleed, and to make her mark on the world. She was not bred and raised for being kept safe. And, on top of that, she was a sorceress.

The only one who had embraced this fact was Morgause, the stranger who had challenged Arthur and had left after giving her the magical bracelet. Morgana had no idea why she had received it, or what it did exactly. She didn’t know whether or not to trust Morgause at all. Morgause had, after all, also left Morgana to her tower for six months without a single word. It had made her feel like she was the loneliest person in the world.

And then, a short while ago, a letter had appeared in a small, silver box on her window sill where no one could have placed it. She had taken the letter and hidden it as best as she could. It was hidden together with her scroll on visions, which had been sewed into the hemline of the heavy curtain at her window. This curtain was never drawn; it remained mostly untouched. The hemline itself was stuffed with wads, so it would never stand out as anything special.

Just last month her entire room had been searched when the book had gone missing from the library. She had been mortally afraid that the searching guards might discover her secrets. But while the guards searched she had sat on the window sill reading a book and had complained about the noise. Her seat practically ensured that she sat on the curtain itself and she would not be moved from it by anyone. Holden and the guards had even turned the book she had been reading inside out, and she had offered them a spiteful sneer when nothing odd had turned up.

While she understood that true dangers to the king and castle needed to be found, it was nerve-wracking to constantly assume the position of being tried by an old, paranoid fool who had fought for so many years that he had forgotten what enemies actually were. He was beyond his reigning years; he was damaging Camelot each day he lived on as king. It was so obvious to her. Uther had to die. Not even just for her, but for everyone else as well.

She thought about Morgause’s letter. It had been a single note, and Morgana had not replied. After all, she did not know where to send her answer. It had told her several valuable things. Firstly, that Morgause had not forgotten about her, which was hardly a comfort as she didn’t know what that even meant. Secondly, she had mentioned the gift and wondered whether or not Morgana wore it with pride. She wasn’t certain whether Morgause meant the bracelet or inferred to her magic.

All she knew was that she felt better wearing it and that her nightmares and visions stopped as long as she had it on her wrist. It had become her strategical choice to wear it as often as possible, unless she became curious about the future. And she sometimes was, despite the heavy emotions involved. In fact, thanks to Merlin’s scroll, her interest in her visions had increased, and she wanted to become better at them. She was becoming less afraid.

The third point in Morgause’s letter was the part that interested her most of all. Morgause had spoken of the future and that Morgana would have to make a choice one day. She couldn’t keep living here, locked up by the man who would have her executed if he knew her true nature.

Morgana had become something she had never chosen for herself. She dreaded to think that she might have become like Uther if her powers had never awoken, and that she would have partaken in the capture and execution of innocent folk. She needed to make amends for that possible future, and make certain that the future she had a hold of was one she wanted to see unfold. This was her burden. It was such a powerful thought that she became acutely aware of the surfaces around her, as if they might be pushed away by the mere violence of her emotions.

Only, she had no idea where to start. Morgause did not seem like the best option, she was militant while Morgana was diplomatic. Morgana would have to find her own means to find the right allegiances. Would Morgause be a good start in making the right connections?

It was a mystery to her why Morgause had singled her out. There were other sorceresses Morgause could choose from, and certainly accomplished ones with practical skills to offer. Her own skills were limited to nightmarish visions and setting her room on fire. She knew that fabrics occasionally blew away if she was suddenly cross or scared. That frightened her. She had no idea what she was doing and someone might see. If anyone ever saw—

There was a knock on the door and she was brought back to the present with a shudder. “Who is it?”

“Er, you sent for me?”

Merlin. She had sent for him early in the morning and it was now mid-afternoon. She hadn’t expected him to show up at all. “The door’s open,” she said as pleasantly as she could, feigning cheerfulness.

Merlin entered demurely and closed the door behind him. He was looking rested, much better than before, and he hadn’t gotten himself into trouble recently. Nothing big, anyway. There was some hay sticking out from his neck scarf and there was dirt on his boots. He had obviously been helping out at the stables again. Nevertheless, he carried a small platter with honeyed fruit and a pitcher of wine, no doubt shoved into his hands by the kitchen staff.

“You can put that down, I’m not hungry,” she said and moved away from the window. She took a seat at her vanity and offered Merlin the small stool. He liked to sit there, she presumed, because it was a small corner of the room and Merlin didn’t operate well in open spaces. He was like a mouse, quiet and guarded.

“How have you been, Morgana?” he asked softly, sitting down. She noticed that his hands were only hastily cleaned and that he shifted in his seat before he was comfortable, no doubt being worked to exhaustion.

“I’m well, as always, Merlin. You’ve seen me last night at supper,” she said sharply.

He offered a dumb grin and shook his head. “I didn’t mean your health. I meant you.”

She felt placated by his gentle response. Merlin surprised her more often than not, saying the right thing, and making sure she wasn’t on edge. She had wondered whether he aimed to use his words to get in her favor, but Merlin had eventually never asked anything for himself. He had not tried to woo her, not even a little. It simultaneously appeased her and made her cautious.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be fine?” she offered him with a smile.

She watched how Merlin looked down and wrung his hands. He did that when he was nervous, and he was often nervous. She knew what it meant, what he was actually asking of her. But she wasn’t easy, she had never been easy. And so she waited for him to ask her directly.

And he did. “Have you had any new… visions?”

He had used the word visions, not nightmares. He was calling it what it was and she felt inexplicably grateful. She couldn’t forget, couldn’t ever forget that he was the only one who had been honest with her about it. “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask? Has anything happened?”

“Oh no, no. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“About what exactly?” she asked him. She wanted him to keep being unambiguous. It offered her support and made her feel like what she could do was worth something.

He put his hands on his knees and sat up straight, turning his eyes to look at her directly. “Is there anything else that you can do? Or that you do without wanting to? I want to help, perhaps I can get you another parchment… That’s why you sent for me, isn’t it?”

At once she felt as if she was at his mercy, as if it wasn’t her own initiative to move a step ahead. She resented him for it, for making her feel out of control. As if she needed a rather dim person like Merlin, however resourceful he was, to decide for her.

“No, there’s nothing. What I’ve called you here for concerns something completely different. You’re here because you owe me an explanation. Something you withheld from me.” He looked up at her with some fear in his eyes. Excellent. “You’ve never told me how in the world the boy was rescued.”

His reaction wasn’t what she had anticipated. He slumped his shoulders, and seemed more relaxed. Or perhaps he was trying to look small and insignificant.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, Morgana.”

With those words she was dismissed once more. Reduced to the nothingness which emphasized her existence. “You will tell me. You have left me waiting here for a month without explanation. Do you think I would not care for this piece of information? After everything I did for you, _risked_ because you asked me to. I believe you owe me.”

“I’m aware of the risks you took and the dangers you were in, _are_ in,” he said to her swiftly. “That doesn’t mean I know how to answer that.”

“You were in on it, you came to fetch me specifically. Don’t deny it!” He was frustrated and looked at her apologetically. She frowned. He wasn’t going to talk. “You told me once my gift was not bestowed lightly. I have taken your word, and yet you treat me lightly today.”

Merlin’s eyes looked her over, judging her. She was used to men looking to her, but not like this. It wasn’t about her physically, but it was a look which aimed to establish her as a whole. It was shrewd. “I’ll tell you what I do know. But I can’t mention any names, I won’t break my promises.”

She nodded at him.

“A specific request came from within the castle, for a sorcerer to take the boy away safely, whatever means necessary. I don’t know who it was, or how they did it. I don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman.There was a flash of light, it was a distraction, apparently.”

“Do you expect me to believe you? Where is the boy now?”

“Safe. Please, Morgana, don’t tell anyone.”

“You’re telling me there’s a sorcerer who would willingly enter the citadel to do this? Risk their life for some ingrate?”

“I don’t know. Apparently?”

“Would they rescue me if I was put to the pyre?”

This startled Merlin. He sat back and said with a strained voice. “I can only assume they would.”

She made use of his discomfort and pushed for more. “I assume next thing you’ll tell me is that they were responsible for Lord Savaric’s demise as well.” A flash of guilt in Merlin’s eyes told her she had hit the right mark. “How on earth…?”

“They’re supposed to be very powerful. I don’t know anything else, you’ve got to believe me.”

“Tell me once and for all, I need to know. Is it Morgause?”

He huffed, “No.”

She believed him. For all his stupid little tricks to dodge giving her information, she believed him. Then it meant he knew who it was, too, and wouldn’t give that information to her. “Arthur knows who it is,” she said at last. It wasn’t a question.

“Oh, goodness no.”

“Save it. He told me himself that he isn’t fighting magic itself anymore.” She leaned back in her chair and observed. Merlin retreated even further and looked thoughtful, perhaps even thoughtless. “I believe in him, you know,” she added. “If he understands the difference between magic used for good and for selfish reasons then you should believe in him too. And if he commands a sorcerer, even more so.”

“No, he doesn’t know. He only understands that an event took place.”

That was disappointing. If Arthur truly commanded a sorcerer that meant Uther was going to be in for more surprises than one. It fueled her inner rebellion with a giddy delight. She wished it were so that Arthur knew. She could make a plan to overthrow Uther once and for all.

“Why did you think it was Morgause?” Merlin asked suddenly.

Her delight stalled in her gut. She couldn’t possibly tell him about the letter she had received. Or how she admired Morgause for her bravery of walking into the castle as she had, and challenging Arthur to a duel. “Because I had a dream that I would see her again,” she lied.

“What happened in the dream?” Merlin pressed.

“Nothing. I just saw her.”

Another question hung on Merlin’s lips but he swallowed it down. He broke away his gaze and studied his knees instead. “If you dream anything that sounds dangerous, would you tell me?”

“I don’t owe you the contents of my visions, Merlin. But if they seek to harm anyone in Camelot, you know I will. I haven’t forgotten what you did for me either.”

Merlin nodded and got up. He didn’t look at her. “You know, we have some strange books lying around. If you ever need… you can ask.” With that, he walked to the door and left.

“I know,” she said.

  
**\-----80 Merlin-----**

Merlin went straight to Gaius’ workshop and sat down miserably at the small dining table. It had been weeks since he sent the letter to his mother in Ealdor, but there had been no reply and he was growing steadily more worried. The only reason he didn’t travel to her was because word around the castle was that messengers from the East were slow and being delayed. Perhaps a few had gone missing. Reports from that region were few, and sometimes there were many days between them. The roads were now deemed dangerous. It irked Uther and Holden, because they were losing their awareness of what was happening in the region. And when they were irked, they took it out on the staff.

Merlin felt listless. It wasn’t just Morgana’s sharpness which had shaken him, but also the fact that he had come to the realization that he hadn’t spoken to her enough. It made him feel unbearably guilty. And now he had almost had to admit his involvement with Tybalt’s rescue, which made him a target for additional questions or observations. On top of that, Morgana seemed to weigh everything he did and she did, and would demand something in return each time. This frightened him.

Morgana’s magic stood at risk to be discovered any day. What if she would point Merlin out as an accomplice… or worse? She wouldn’t, would she? He felt a trembling panic creep up, thinking what would happen if both of them would be exposed.

“Hello, Merlin,” his master greeted him. “Stay here, I need you to try something.”

While he understood Morgana’s fears, as he lived them day by day, Merlin hadn’t given them enough attention. He had been entirely engrossed with Arthur; the new familiarity they were building up, their intimacy explored. He had effectively been captivated in an infatuated rut, madly in love, with few thoughts for anything else. Apart from performing his regular duties, he had abandoned all his other habits in favor of his daydreams and their execution.

Merlin had recently made the excuse to Holden that polishing and mending armor was more productive in Arthur’s chambers where the room was warm and bright, than in the cool and dark armory down below. Arthur had claimed he did not mind, and that he could do his personal work and send his letters without being bothered. To Merlin’s surprise, Holden had not put up a fight. It had worked, so far. No one minded them. Of course, they were both terrified of being discovered, but they were also impossibly determined.

He and Arthur were together as much as was reasonably possible without throwing off the staff or anyone else. Two or three times per week, mostly in the evenings, they would lock the door and hope to remain undisturbed. It was dangerous and thrilling. Their ardor would build throughout the days with small kisses in the mornings, concealed touches throughout the day—and if they had a moment in private, whispered promises and requests which turned Merlin’s ears hot and his brain numb with delight. It was nothing peaceful and cozy like the time he had been ordered to stay in Arthur’s room, but it was magnificent nonetheless.

Gaius stood next to his shelf of potions and searched among the vials. “I can’t seem to find the olive oil. I was certain we still had some. Now we shall have to wait for spring and see if the trade from across the seas is still legal.”

Merlin buried his head in his arms. The olive oil had come in useful. Much better than the muscle salve, though the oil was less viscous. Arthur had adopted it without question; he was so eager each time to endeavor into something new and yet unexplored. He was getting better, surprising Merlin with his ardor and passionate energy. That made it harder for Merlin to surprise him in return.

Last night had been good, great really. Merlin had prepared himself and had guided Arthur down to the alcove where they had first hidden after Holden’s prank. He had boxed them in with magic, just like the day when Arthur had first kissed him. Once Arthur had discovered Merlin’s extent of preparations, he had been unstoppable, wild. And Merlin had succumbed to him completely. Just remembering it stirred Merlin’s insides warmly.

“This is another draught I’ve created for Lady Morgana. I think it should work better than before. I want you to take this tonight and see how you sleep.”

Lady Morgana. Merlin was once more letting her slip from his mind. He had to put his love aside for a moment, shut away his hot daydreams, and think about what to do. For all the improvements they had achieved together last month, the winter had driven her to the tower again. Whether or not she had chosen it, or whether Uther had chosen it for her, he wasn’t certain. He hadn’t spoken with Gwen enough to really understand. But he owed her, she was right about that. She had dreamed the necessary dreams for him, at great peril to herself, and Merlin hadn’t done anything to repay her. He felt miserably guilty.

“I’m sleeping just fine by myself, Gaius,” Merlin pointed out at last. “Not even a storm can wake me.” He really was quite exhausted when he dropped into his bed each night. Even more so if he had spent any time with Arthur. He had taken care to wear his scarves tighter around his neck—in case the marks on his skin were seen.

“I need you to test this for Lady Morgana. To see if—"

“No,” he said, getting up.

“Merlin, this is not a request!”

“No!” he said again. “Keeping her asleep isn’t the answer, Gaius. She is miserable, don’t you have any idea?” He felt bad because he hadn’t had any idea either, and now he was projecting his failure onto his master. But it was wrong to administer this. Her words had expressed her need to be occupied, to be busy with something which would energize her, not to be locked inside her mind.

“I have done what you asked of me earlier. She was of great diplomatic assistance, as far as I’ve heard. It’s not my fault that Uther has not kept her in his service,” Gaius remarked.

“It is every bit our fault if we aren’t doing what we can!” Merlin knew he hadn’t given her enough of his attention, and now he was, unfairly, calling Gaius out on it too. Some of the evenings when he had been with Arthur, he should have spoken with Morgana, to see if she was okay. Or sent Arthur to play Backgammon with her. All of the warnings fed to him by the Great Dragon rose to the surface and turned his stomach.

“Do you want her nightmares to haunt her and make her feel ill?” Gaius asked incredulously.

“They aren’t nightmares.”

“You are being foolish, boy,” Gaius said and put the potion down on the table. Merlin knew that he had worked hard on it; several weeks, in fact. But he wasn’t going to change his argument.

“No, I think you are foolish. You are so blinded by your loyalty to the king that you don’t understand what’s best for the kingdom.”

Gaius was getting truly upset. “You are calling me a hypocrite?” His eyebrow lifted in scrutiny and Merlin withstood it valiantly.

“Perhaps. You watched Tybalt burn only a month ago and you did nothing. You’ve kept Morgana mostly asleep for these past few years. Even when Lady Vivian was sick, you gave her potions to rest. Why can’t these people be free to figure out their own solutions in life?”

“Rest is a great way to heal, Merlin. Are you trying to tell me I have mistreated those who were ill?”

“Lady Vivian wasn’t ill, she was enchanted! And Lady Morgana has never been in better health!”

“You had better watch your tone with me! I know it was you who poisoned Halig!”

Whatever response Merlin had in mind to offer died in his throat. He was outraged at Gaius’ failure to accept the mistakes of his conduct, and his blind hypocrisy regarding his care of Morgana. He couldn’t begin to fathom how he had figured out about Halig. He merely glared at Gaius instead.

“You think I don’t know? On the very day you received your promotion too, Merlin! How could you?”

“How could I what? Actually keep Morgana safe, without these potions? Protect you, _and_ keep my own head on my shoulders?” He couldn’t believe that he was admitting it now. The last time Gaius had asked if he had been involved, he had stoically denied it. Halig’s body had been sent away under the care of a special envoy to be buried at his own ‘estate.’ Since the man didn’t actually have any estate and everything had been fake, Merlin was left to guess what the envoy had been tasked to do.

Gaius looked down his nose at Merlin, his lips pressed together. “You have betrayed me, Merlin.”

“How is my betrayal to you any worse than yours to all of us? You would let Halig live, knowing what he does. You would indulge Uther his hunt, when it is our lives he’s after!”

“I have lived through many persecutions—"

“Yes you _have_! You’re a spectator! And you’ve always lasted. I ask you _at what cost?_ ” He wasn’t having any of it. He had never been defiant to his mother and rarely to Gaius. And while today had started just fine, some of the things Morgana had said had awoken something within him.

“How dare you!” Gaius said aghast.

Merlin fretted. “I’m not saying you’ve never helped anyone.”

Gaius fumed and walked up to Merlin in anger. “You’ve forgotten entirely when I was about to take the fall with Aredian? When I traveled to the Isle of the Blessed? Do you think for a moment that I have not taken care of you?”

Merlin blanched but recovered quickly. “And did you think for a moment that I would let you down?”

This time Gaius was shocked.

“I take risks, Gaius. It’s what I do, what I have to do. If I don’t learn how to take them, there won’t even be a kingdom _left_ when Arthur is crowned.”

“You don’t know what you are getting yourself involved in!”

“That’s because it’s never been done. You always told me not to tell Arthur, and look how that worked out! We are finally aligned to protect Camelot side by side, instead of risking the deaths of more people!”

“You are saying Prince Arthur was involved in this?”

Merlin jutted his chin. “It was under his orders.” He turned to leave.

“Merlin,” Gaius said, still angry but no longer shouting. Merlin paused. “How did you do it?”

“Magic.” He left without further explanation. He was upset. He’d never spoken to Gaius like that and he felt deeply ashamed, but also angry, because part of what he had told Gaius was true and it _hurt_.

  
***

Merlin knocked on Arthur’s door and opened it to bring him his dinner. He was feeling quite sullen about his fight with Gaius. He aimed for a neutral expression and placed the tray on the corner of Arthur’s cluttered work desk. It took Arthur less than two seconds to figure out something was wrong. The prince got up from his chair and walked up to him, lifting a hand to stroke his back. He was wearing his blue shirt with the deep v-neck and the red doublet over it, buttons loose, which Merlin thought was particularly nice. It served to cheer him up slightly.

“What’s happened?” Arthur said softly. He kept his eyes on the door as he spoke, knowing he’d have to remove his hand if anyone were to enter. His deep voice and steady hand were a comfort to Merlin and he resolved to pulling himself together.

“I had a falling out with Gaius.”

“Anything I should know about?”

Merlin closed his eyes momentarily. He loved Arthur for posing the question in those words, offering him space to enlighten him or keep him out of anything if it was dangerous. It made the nervousness of his predicament significantly less and gave him courage to speak. “Gaius told me he knows Halig’s death was your call, and at my hand. He just doesn’t know how.”

Arthur’s hand stayed where it was, low on Merlin’s back, and Merlin saw how Arthur’s jaw worked. “Does he have a problem with it?”

“That’s just it. He claimed to have a problem with it, while he has stood by and watched sorcerers burn. For years! Up and including Tybalt,” Merlin said softly, and his outrage was fueled once more.

Merlin watched as Arthur crossed the room, contemplatively; Arthur clearly needed to know whether Gaius had any idea about the prince’s involvement. But if he did, Merlin would have said so right away. Arthur would know that already.

Merlin reached out to remove the cover of the dinner tray to offer the prince his meal. It was a whole chicken, supplemented with boiled vegetables, onions, and it smelled of spices. Garlic bread with cheese was offered beside it. Merlin’s mouth watered.

Arthur had been training nearly every afternoon with the knights. During the cold winter days they trained indoors in the throne room, which was emptied of furniture and made available to fight by introducing straw rushes and bales, and it soon stank of sweat, weapon oils, and ale. Arthur had returned ravenous each day, and was consuming more food than usual. He was in formidable shape and Merlin relished it whenever he safely could. Particularly during Arthur’s private evening exercise routine.

Arthur stood in front of a cabinet and turned to observe Merlin from the corner of his eyes. “So, will he say anything to my father, do you think?”

“No, it would mean incriminating me. He would never do that.”

Arthur’s eyes looked him up and down from across the room and Merlin felt something stir. The prince licked his lips and sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, but… you’ve done the same, you know.”

Merlin frowned and broke their gaze. He was agitated at Arthur’s remark. He had a hard time putting his thoughts together, it was as if he was slowly waking up from a dream he didn’t want to let go of. He couldn’t even begin to mention how Morgana’s words had thrown him off and how concerned she had been about the alleged involved sorcerer. He couldn’t mention to Arthur how she had fathomed that somehow the prince had been aware of the rescue plans, because it meant he would have to explain to Arthur why he had told Morgana about Tybalt’s deliverance in the first place.

The prince spoke again, “For all the people who got burned, and the trust Gaius could gain with my father for it, do you think he was able to save more lives in the end?” He opened the drawer to a cabinet and took out a new thick candle.

Merlin looked at him balefully. “It’s still wrong. I’ve tried to save people whenever I could.”

“I know, at least I know that now. But you weren’t always able to help either. Thomas the Blacksmith, for example. Gwen’s father. Or is he alive somewhere that I don’t know?” He closed the drawer once more.

Merlin looked down at the floor. “No, I didn’t have the courage to do anything back then. I never thought about how I could, until you tasked me to rescue Tybalt.”

“You mean you never did that before?” Arthur regarded him curiously.

“Not like that, no.” Merlin shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “There isn’t one answer that fits. Sometimes it was the right thing to do. If I would be caught, then I couldn’t protect you. And so, some people must die in order for me to remain here? It’s impossible to save everyone I believe is innocent, and it’s impossible to always know for certain when someone is not.” He was exasperated.

Arthur wore a small smile and there was a humorous twinkle in his eye. He walked back towards his desk to place the candle onto the stub of the previous one. “I never thought I would say this, _Mer_ lin, but you’re starting to think like a king might do.”

Merlin sighed. “Is it always this hard?”

“Oh no, usually it’s worse.”

“Can one man carry all that responsibility? Can you?” Merlin asked wistfully.

“Only if he has the right advisors in place,” Arthur answered, returning to Merlin’s side and put a hand on his arm, squeezing. “I have you already.”

“And what if I’m not certain about things at all?”

“I need to hear your doubts. The opposite example is my father’s rule. He may have a vast knowledge, but he is certain of things before he has all the facts. I trust your thoughts, even if they do not always provide the answers.” He paused and looked at Merlin directly.

In his blue eyes Merlin saw that Arthur trusted him and loved him. He pulled an arm around Arthur’s waist and tugged him closer, and he felt a blush creeping on when Arthur let him. He wanted Arthur, needed him, and badly. A fire was starting up within him. He wanted all that affirmation which had been missing today, wanted to know that he still did some good.

Arthur read the concern on his face. “The more I think back, the more I understand you’ve always tried to convince me of the right thing. With Valiant and Cedric, and”—he leaned closer, with a lopsided smile—“I’m _pretty sure_ you never actually knocked me out when Sophia enchanted me.”

Merlin snorted. “I’ll tell you about that some day,” he promised. There was something nagging him at the mention of Sophia, but all rational thoughts left his brain when Arthur leaned in. Would they have a few moments? Could they…?

There was a knock on the door and they both leapt aside. Arthur turned back around to his desk and bellowed. “Enter.”

  
**\-----81 Arthur-----**

Gwen walked into the room and Arthur greeted her. He had invited her earlier to take measurements and had forgotten entirely. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said with a smile.

“Good evening, sire. Merlin.” She bowed and closed the door behind her. She was carrying a small bag with her which Arthur recognized vaguely as her sewing toolkit.

Merlin was near the wardrobe, folding up Arthur’s folded clothes with a stony look on his face. He mused at Merlin’s quick choice, and at the uselessness of the activity, and decided instead to use it in his favor. “Bring me the black doublet, Merlin. The velvet one.”

“I bring you news from Holden,” Gwen announced. “It’s confirmed that two servants are now officially missing and they’ve lost their place in the household.”

“What happened?” Arthur asked. He put the cover back over his food. The scent had filled the room and a hunger tugged at his insides. He had been careless and it left him feeling somewhat lightheaded. Or perhaps it wasn’t food he was hungry for.

“Well, old mister Wyburgh was ill and it’s very likely that he’s passed away. We haven’t been able to find him though. And then there’s Josselyn, the scullery maid? Audrey hasn’t seen her for some time, but word is that she was seen at night with one of the other kings’ staff. Our guess is that she followed him.”

“Noted. I can only hope she finds him welcoming,” he offered to Gwen, who nodded in response. “It might not be safe to travel. The scouts have come back talking about an armed cavalry, spotted over a hill in the south. It’s not Cenred, their banners are unknown.”

“How many fighting men?” Gwen asked.

“Not enough to pose any threat to us, but they shouldn’t be there to begin with.” He took the velvet doublet when Merlin handed it to him. “Hang on, what’s this?” he asked angrily. “No, never mind, I thought it was a stain.”

Gwen stepped forward and looked at the doublet curiously—velvet was expensive after all.

Arthur guarded his expression carefully while Merlin, standing behind Gwen, attempted to do the same and failed. His eyes were wide with shock. It brought out the dimple on his chin and made him gulp. No doubt he was reliving the memory of the stain’s creation. Arthur felt greatly amused, a warmth buzzing through his gut at the memory, and a humorous tickle at Merlin’s discomfort. He was fairly certain Merlin would come up with some payback later.

“It’s fine, really,” Gwen said. “I don’t see any stain.”

“I’ll just…” Merlin mumbled with an odd tone to his voice and turned to leave.

“Not so hasty,” Arthur said. He hooked his finger through a hole in the back of Merlin’s suede jacket, the one still there from when Lady Vivian’s affliction happened in public, and Merlin had distracted the guests by dropping himself on a rack of swords. He effectively reeled Merlin back in. He was pleased to see the furious blush crossing his cheeks. “Leave your jacket here for Gwen to mend.”

“That’s a great idea,” Gwen agreed with a bright smile.

“Thanks, that’s…” Merlin mumbled as he shrugged out of it, and by the time he offered the jacket to Gwen, he was recovered and it looked like nothing was amiss.

Arthur had no idea how Merlin turned that around so quickly. His cheeks were still rosy, though. The effect had been entertaining. He wanted to come up with new things that moved and amused Merlin, so that once they had an evening without any appointments, it was all the more meaningful and enjoyable to them. Each night without Merlin was one he considered lost.

“Right then,” Gwen said and took out her measuring tape. She stood behind Arthur and made him lift his arms to the side. She started to pull the tape line across his shoulders and Arthur saw Merlin make his quick escape out of the room.

“When you’re done taking the measurements, Gwen, I’ll have a second request for you.”

  
***

The next afternoon Arthur was training in the throne room with the knights. They were rowdy and not paying attention. Two of the knights, Lanval and Ywain, had been in an argument for over a week now because Lanval’s younger brother, who still lived at their father’s fortress, had made fun of Ywain in a recent letter. Lanval’s brother had written that Ywain’s father finally admitted that he was out of coin and their entire family was about to lose their fortress and their status.

Ywain was already an established knight, over thirty years of age, but he certainly feared the consequences. Lanval’s father had sent soldiers to aid in the face of unrest, but the soldiers had instead rallied the local people to tear down the fortress and there was a local feud starting.

Arthur kept them apart as much as possible, but there were snide remarks coming from both corners of the room, for all the other knights to hear. Some were drawn to show their support in favor of one house or the other. Arthur told them to remain neutral, but the tension was still in the air.

Which was made worse for Arthur when Uther walked in and announced that he was there to inspect today’s tests for knighthood. Two of the lower ranking knights were nearly ready to take one of their combat tests for their final adornment. They needed to complete seven rounds of combat with different weapons each time. They would alternately choose a weapon and their opponent could respond by choosing a weapon of their own choice in return. The final battle would be fought with longswords and no shield, and it would be against Arthur himself.

Except one of the participants was Lanval. He was facing Pelleas, another young knight who had sat with Ywain all morning and had decided to make things personal. Arthur had sat with them both, but to no avail. When Uther walked in, all the knights stilled their gossip and training continued peacefully. Arthur greeted his father but felt agitated. Apparently fear worked wonders for these men. Perhaps, Arthur admitted to himself, his father had the right of that at least.

“I’m glad you’ve come to oversee the tests, the men look up to you. And you can observe how we’ve been getting on.”

“I trust your training sessions, Arthur,” his father said pleasantly. 

“I’m certain it would give the men courage if you look on. And if it doesn’t, then they need to find courage,” Arthur answered with a smile.

This placated his father greatly. “Very well. Ensure the kitchens are aware and Holden serves me here. Proceed.”

As the two participants commenced their tests, all the older knights looked on. Even the ones who had been baiting Lanval kept their mouths shut. Arthur had his father’s throne brought back in for the king to sit down. He had refused his own on account of his day being an active one.

During the third round, Uther beckoned him. “When Lanval succeeds, send him out on the first mission that comes along. Make sure Ywain goes along and instruct Ywain to protect him with his life.”

“You would put them together like that? What if Ywain fails to succeed, or kills Lanval?”

Uther turned to Arthur and without emotion he replied, “Then you sack Ywain for failing his objective. He serves me first and foremost. That’s what we pay them for. If he objects, kill him.”

Arthur stared at his father hard. He drank ale with these men and shared bread. When they were out fighting against invaders or against local folk and druids, they needed to have each other’s back in battle. He knew already that he was not going to follow his father’s orders. He nodded anyway. He assumed his father had other objectives in mind, like getting rid of Ywain’s house and heir altogether.

“How are the funds for the stable coming along?” he asked instead.

“I’ve managed to put together what you need from some extraneous sources for the plans you put forward. But I still do not see that we should ever need that many horses.”

Arthur knew what his father meant; the money which had been put aside to pay Halig had finally been freed up. It would serve a much better purpose to expand the citadel and add a much larger connection of stables that would span out into the fields. “We will if we keep raising these young men to be knights,” Arthur said. “If we are to ride formidably against our enemies, the horses are essential.”

“Most of our enemies battle on foot.”

“My point exactly, father.”

“And when will you start training the men?”

“This winter. To ensure the horses are not out of shape come spring. We’ve stored enough hay and we can keep them out of the cold winds. The fields we’re preparing should do just fine for exercising them.”

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” his father mused.

“I do that more than you might think.” He grinned.

Uther chuckled. “See to it that the horses and the knights get everything they need.”

Arthur felt relieved. It had been quite a while since he had any sort of relaxed conversation with his father that did not involve state politics, border patrols, or warfare. They almost never spoke about anything simply relevant for that day. And it was rare that Arthur ever felt he was doing something good for Camelot out of his own accord.

He felt more relieved when Lanval failed his test on the fifth battle. Pelleas would continue his training against Bedivere for the sixth round and then Arthur for the seventh to see if he would make it. Lanval would need more training and Ywain would need to be spoken to in private.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Uther remarked.

“Thank you, father,” Arthur answered at last, feeling sentimental.

  
**\-----82 Morgana-----**

In the days that followed Morgana grew increasingly restless. She alternated between taxing herself with visions at night, and wearing the bracelet to expand her capability to experiment. When she had exerted herself, she would take time to recover. Each night the same dream returned of a city in flames. When she had awoken that morning, exhausted, she placed the bracelet on her wrist and weight over her options.

She felt particularly vulnerable after these dreams and resolved to learn more about what they could mean. She knew that there was only one person who would listen to her, but she doubted that Merlin could explain why she was dreaming this. He was genuinely trying to help, but he just couldn’t see the bigger picture.

Gwen was busy matching some buttons from a box which lay stored in one of Morgana’s dressers. Morgana sat up in her bed. Her magic was deep within her, waiting and coiling and restless.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to wake you,” came Gwen’s soft voice.

“It’s alright. I should get up. I have done enough relaxing.”

“What would you like to wear today?”

“The blue dress with the flowers on the front,” she said, and pushed the blankets off of herself. Her feet hovered over the cold tiles until Gwen placed her slippers at her feet. “It reminds me of water.”

“Would you like to drink something, my lady?”

“Yes.”

Ever since Gwen had spent several interrupted nights next to Morgana and witnessed the extreme vehemence of her nightmares firsthand, she had aimed to mollify Morgana as much as possible. It was a good gesture, Morgana knew. Great, even. Gwen’s persistence in these things was commendable. But Morgana would not be soothed. Her turbulent heart forbade it.

“You’ve received a letter,” Gwen began. Morgana looked up at her in fright. She feared that Gwen might have found Morgause’s note. When Gwen saw her, she smiled gently and explained, “It’s from Sir Owain. I mean, he _tried_ to tell me it’s from one of our messengers, but I know for a fact that none have returned in the past few days. So, I think it’s from him directly.”

Morgana accepted the note Gwen held out and kept it folded. “Another one of those. I dread to think what Uther would do if he found out.”

“Surely you’ve told Sir Owain ‘no?’” Gwen took out the blue dress Morgana had mentioned from the wardrobe and collected her slip and corset.

“What if I don’t want to? What if the union of a lady and a knight is not so strange?” Morgana stood up and Gwen unbuttoned her long night dress, so she could step out of it. Apart from the bracelet she was naked. “Sir Owain is not that bad? Still, Uther will forbid it. I know it.”

“Morgana, Uther will have to let you go _some_ day, won’t he?”

While Gwen clearly meant for the best, Morgana had mixed feelings. “I don’t think he is capable of that anymore. The years are passing me by, soon I will be unwanted.”

“Surely not,” Gwen assured her. “You have a great many years of beauty left.”

“Thanks,” she said and looked down. Beauty wasn’t her goal, it wasn’t an objective. She was a warrior’s daughter and she had been raised with the knowledge of history and politics. The people in the city looked up to her, but they had no reason to. She needed them to have a reason, it was something she knew with the certainty of the earth below and the skies above.

Gwen was quiet for some time, helping Morgana into her slip and then lacing up her corset, pulling the strings tight one section at a time until Morgana felt the need for oxygen deep in her system. It felt good, it made her feel like she would be in control. Then she carefully stepped into the blue dress, which had been made by Gwen, and Gwen pulled it up around her, helping her into the sleeves. They went slowly to make certain that the fragile fabric wouldn’t tear. The result was perfect.

“I think you should do what you believe to be best,” Gwen offered strategically at last. While Morgana was vexed, it did soothe her that Gwen thought there were still good options left. Best ones even. Except that Gwen had no idea that the very best option meant the execution of the king.

“Yes, perhaps you’re right.” She placed the note under the saucer on her nightstand. She would read it later. Perhaps. Or perhaps not.

“How would you like your hair today?”

“Just a braid, to the side.” She walked over to her vanity. Gwen took out the brushes and began the lengthy process of combing and separating her hair while Morgana looked at her own reflection. Could she still look into the mirror if she murdered the man who had raised her, who had taught her the ways of the world? She believed that Uther loved her to a degree. But this love had boundaries, and they ended at magic. It was the paradox in which she was stuck. If she was truly to be herself, she would not be loved. If she wanted to be loved, she could never truly be herself. She couldn’t accept that.

“What about you, Gwen?” Morgana tried to push her thoughts to more pleasant topics. If she continued her conviction of somberness she would never get out of it. It was the endless suffering of the repeating nightmare, she knew. The unrelenting sadness of her visions at night marked her days and frightened her. She needed an excuse to research the issue and address what she thought she had seen.

“Me? Oh, I suppose I’m still waiting. For the right man, that is.”

Morgana lifted an onyx stone necklace to put around her neck after Gwen was done with her hair. “I’m sure you will find him, Gwen. Probably sooner than you think.” She smiled through the mirror at her maidservant. “Are you still working on Arthur’s requests?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“You can do so in here, if you want,” Morgana offered. She slipped into her daytime shoes and walked towards the door. Her bracelet made her feel safe.

“Thank you, my lady,” Gwen said. The castle provided heat and better lighting for Gwen to work with, which she did not have in her home, Morgana knew. She was happy to share.

“And I hope you’re right,” Gwen said at last.

Morgana smiled genuinely at Gwen. “I know it.”

  
***

Morgana walked through the corridors. The castle was quiet, apart from guards talking in the hallway, and a servant carrying a large willow basket with firewood up the stairs. Meanwhile, Morgana thought about what to do. Her instinct told her to share the vision from her dreams, so she went in search of Merlin. She had a feeling where she might find him, though she wasn’t certain how she knew. When she descended the staircase and turned the corridor, she indeed saw him just entering the library.

 _Perfect_ , she thought. It was quiet and they could find one of the book rooms at the back to speak privately. She confidently pushed forward and entered the library after him.

Morgana used the love the library. The books held tales for her, both true and fabricated, but things to fill her head with nonetheless. There were books with the sagas of ancient cultures of Albion and from all of the unfamiliar lands around them, which could only be reached by boat across angry waters and terrible storms. The books brought those to her. There were books filled with poetry that had roused her heart more than once as she grew up.

She knew the names of the great authors and had dabbled at poetry herself for some time. However, no one had had time for her talent. The word was about war, and everyone’s time was scarce, so she had given it up. She had read so many books that it had started to make her feel sick. Now that her magic had surfaced, she chose not to exhibit herself at all anymore. And she had almost stopped reading entirely. Whatever there might have been for her, it was gone.

She stepped into the library and looked around to see if Geoffrey was attending, and found his desk to be empty. This was usual, he was probably teaching some of the younger nobles their morning lessons before the afternoon trainings began. She heard a noise at the back of the passage of book cases and turned towards it. She followed what she thought sounded like a shove of books and seconds later bumped into Merlin who emerged from between two bookcases, and seemed entirely startled to find her there.

“Lady Morgana!” he exclaimed.

His voice rang loud and all of a sudden her certainty had dissipated. “Shh!” Her heart was in her throat. She looked around and grabbed Merlin’s wrist, dragging him to the small room at the back of the passage where they would be out of earshot. “I needed to find you. I had another vision,” she whispered.

Merlin’s eyes widened. He seemed pleased and worried at the same time. Poor Merlin, he understood the dangers she was in, but he could never truly understand the extent of her fear. She was grateful though that he hadn’t excluded her from the understanding which his scientific work brought him. She understood the risks he took by listening to her.

“I thought you were angry with me, my lady,” Merlin said.

“I was. You shouldn’t hide such important things from me, Merlin. Not when I’m sharing with you what I know.” She stared him down and saw he succumbed only moments later. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“What have you foreseen?”

There it was, the question she never knew she had longed for. “A city in flames. Each time the same. The people are burning.”

“There’s a fire?”

“No, the fire comes from above. It rains down. I think there’s something else but I wake up each time before I can see it. It’s terrifying. And then the fire returns.”

There was something in Merlin’s eyes which told her he understood how scary it was. Perhaps it simply frightened him because he believed that her visions would come true. He looked down and pursed his lips in thought.

“Is the fire magic? Do you know?”

“I’m almost certain, but what does that mean?” She grabbed Merlin’s arm. “How is it relevant?”

“Do you… have you ever started another fire?” his voice was soft, a whisper.

“Surely you don’t think this is me putting the city to flame?” Morgana barked a laugh at him.

“No, my lady, of course not.”

“I don’t have that kind of power, or control,” she admitted. It made her feel horrid to say it.

“Don’t worry, Morgana, you can learn, I’m sure.”

He had dropped her title, she noticed, but she did not call him out on it. “What do you mean by that?”

Merlin evaded, “It’s just. It’s strange you should talk about that because I was just reading something the other day. Fire is a very basic element. It’s used in Gaius’ work too.”

He stopped there and Morgana frowned at him. “Go on?”

“It said something about magic,” Merlin brought forward.

“I need to know, Merlin. Please, I’m asking you.” She hated how desperate she sounded, but she was. Her fear of discovery haunted her every day and every sleepless night. If she would light the curtains up one more time, people might begin to investigate, start to suspect. She was especially frightened about the reactions she might have to the worst visions when they became more powerful—what if she would involuntarily react with magic again?

She watched and saw how Merlin hesitated, took a deep breath and continued, at last, in a whisper. “The book said that it is energy and that all fire eventually ends. And that that’s how it was once used in magic too long ago.” He paused and looked at her meaningfully. “What I think it meant was that to start and to stop fire is something you could master.”

“I can barely even master my visions, I doubt I could control fire.” She glanced around her as if even the books could hear.

Merlin shook his head. “You’re awake with fire, it’s different. Perhaps if you tried in your own chambers. Use a candle, try to extinguish it, and light it again.”

“No, Merlin, it’s dangerous. Fire is dangerous.”

He grinned. “Keep water nearby.” The way he said it made it seem so simple when it really wasn’t. When the flames had nearly consumed her chambers, it had been fueled by her vehement emotions and there had not been any stopping it.

“How is it done?” Her heart was beating fast in her throat. She was excited and daunted at once.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Morgana’s hope fled that instant and she gave him a wan smile. But before she could make a remark of deep disappointment, Merlin added, “If I possibly heard someone do the incantation many years ago, before I came to Camelot... would you find it useful if I told you?”

“You know the words?” her voice trembled. She longed to know those words, which matched the pull within her. She longed to let the magic out which had been boxed-in and pushed against its restraints. If Merlin told her the words, she would never forget them—they would be her release, her lifeline. She didn’t have to feel insane.

“Just one word. That’s why I remembered,” he said sheepishly.

“What is it?” she pushed impatiently. She had no time for his tomfoolery.

“Don’t say it in here because of all the books.”

“Well, what is it?” she pressed again. She desired to know it.

“The word is ‘forbærnan,’” he said with a constricted voice. “The word is very old, so it sounds strange. Just be careful. I don’t want to be the cause if your room is lost to fire, or that you would get hurt yourself.”

Morgana marked the word and nodded to him. She said it in her head over and over. It seemed to rouse images of the burning city, which made her miserable. Her stomach twisted into knots. “I can’t, I can’t do it.”

“Why not?” Merlin asked, tilting his head. It was almost as if he had been happy for her to work on the spell.

“I’m afraid. And Gwen is going to be in my room…”

“There’s no rush, really. You should only do it if it makes you feel good. Magic should only ever feel good. And you should learn to stop anything that you start.”

She regarded him. “How do you know all that?”

“Er, I think I might have picked that up when Arthur was talking about his history classes,” Merlin said, looking at his boots. “You know how Geoffrey keeps on about the histories of the land.”

“History?” she scoffed. She wanted to ask Merlin if he knew anything else, but they heard footsteps in the passage and a rasping cough. “It’s Geoffrey!” Morgana hissed. She couldn’t be found in here with Merlin; it would start all sorts of strange gossip she wasn’t looking forward to. Sir Owain’s letter was risk enough if anyone other than Gwen discovered it—but this was outright scandalous.

“Stay here,” she ordered.

“Is anyone here?” Geoffrey asked.

Morgana stepped out of the room full of grace. She smiled at Geoffrey and reached out a hand to touch his arm. “Oh Geoffrey, I’m so glad you’re here. I had some doubts about a philosopher I read about in one of my poems, and I got lost among your fabulous collection.”

“You’re looking in the wrong section, my lady. Allow me to show you.”

“Thank you, Geoffrey. And if I don’t understand any other passages, I shall be sure to ask you.”

“I never knew you were interested in philosophy, Lady Morgana. It’s not a topic many ladies embark upon.”

“Well, I suppose I’m one of a kind,” she answered with a smile.

  
**\-----83 Merlin-----**

Merlin escaped the library unnoticed and walked innocently through the corridors, back towards the entrance hall. He felt cold in his old suede jacket, the one he had used the previous year. It was worn thin, tattered, and had started to shine around the sleeves.

A city in flames. Merlin had heard her say that before and it made him anxious. He knew Morgana’s visions always came true, one way or another. And he had a feeling he might know the source of the flames, which would ‘rain down.’

The Great Dragon. He knew then with a twist in his gut that he would set the dragon free, just like he’d promised, and despite his own inclination never to do so.

Morgana’s visions were becoming more powerful. If she saw a dragon then it meant that that would happen. Even if she hadn’t seen the actual dragon yet, Merlin knew the beast’s fierce nature already. He had no idea how to prevent that from happening. Or if he could create any unexpected event which voided her vision entirely. Was there anything he could do to stop it from happening?

He was conflicted and a shudder went through his body at the realization that the Great Dragon wanted Albion united under Arthur’s rule, but was equally content to destroy the city if he could. He didn’t trust the dragon, he hadn’t for a long time. The noble beast only ever told him information which sustained his own personal agenda and never Merlin’s. He didn’t know what sort of agenda that was. It seemed now that if the dragon had his way, the city would be destroyed. Merlin couldn’t defeat him or kill him. He knew that already. The dragon was too powerful for that. He had hoped it wouldn’t come that far, that the dragon would change his mind. He _had to_ hope.

But what if Morgana was wrong? What if the source of the fire wasn’t in the sky, but simply from above? What if her vision was of Uther’s reign of terror, which would take a vice grip hold of Camelot and he would burn the city down? Wasn’t there a Roman emperor who had done the same?

And today, he had just returned the book about Sidhe magic. He had waited weeks for a quiet moment and it had arrived at last. Geoffrey had been teaching and nobody had needed Merlin at that moment. In fact, he had waited so long that he had nearly forgotten about the book. Ever since Arthur had mentioned Sophia, something had gnawed at the back of his mind.

So, that morning he had gone to the tower where Roslyn and Manath’s story lay hidden—which he still hadn’t read due to lack of time—as well as the stuffy old bag Arthur had brought back which contained the Sidhe coin and the library book. He had uncovered it from where it lay hidden in order to return it to the library. Now he was terrified that Morgana would get in trouble for being at the library on the very day of its mysterious return. He hoped that it would take a long time before Geoffrey found it. His head swam.

He couldn’t go back today, not when Geoffrey was specifically showing Morgana around, not when he had _just_ made his unseen escape. He would have to make public small talk, and besides, he wouldn’t be allowed near the bookcases with magical history anyway. Additionally, he was expected in the stables and was probably already late.

He hadn’t even had enough time for a real conversation with Gaius. He hoped that his master wouldn’t hold a grudge. After all, Merlin _had_ in fact saved several lives that night. He had protected Camelot and Arthur by extension. And it had been commanded by Arthur, who clearly hadn’t considered it an easy decision, but the right one to make in the end. There hadn’t been any other choice, had there? This was a war after all.

Merlin headed outside and towards the stables. For the past week he had been helping daily to fix and sweep the stables, and he had secretly strengthened the structure bit by bit. Here and there he had pushed bolts back into place, or restored the original strength of the wooden beams with his magic. The whole place smelled of sawdust and wood oils. There were many workers around so he had to be careful. If they returned from a short break to discover that a part of the structure had been fixed, then they were satisfied that one of their colleagues had done it. The work progressed with fair speed and there had been no incidents, apart from Liam getting kicked by one of the horses and showing off a distinctly horse-shoe shaped bruise on his side to anyone who asked. Dennett was not amused.

For several hours Merlin worked, swept, and helped carried newly carved beams through the stables to be fitted into the extended stable areas, which would be put to use once the foals were born in the spring. Before long, Merlin was covered in straw, dirt, and sweat. If he would have any chance at spending some time with Arthur that night, he would have to thoroughly bathe himself. Perhaps he would have a chance to get back at him for his prank about the stain on the doublet. Merlin had been beside himself with shock and embarrassment. Now that he thought back, it brought a chuckle to his lips.

Thinking about the Great Dragon had also brought back his thoughts about the prophecy, and of Arthur’s foretold demise. He couldn’t put it out of his mind, even in his blissful situation. It was a constant reminder of the choices he needed to make and everything he stood to lose. He wasn’t even certain whether anything he did during his daily chores, and in conversations with others, would have any effect or not. He didn’t know enough about the prophecy at all. And yet, the thought of losing Arthur one day made him sick with regret and misery. In his anguish, it took him some time to realize that one of the stabled horses was unknown to him.

He lifted a large pail of water and struggled to stand upright. He had worked so hard that he could barely stand straight with the pail in his arms. “Liam, do you know whose mare this is?” The beast was broad and powerful, but built stocky. It looked far more like Thorunn than one of Camelot’s stock.

“Oh yes, a man came in here earlier asking to meet with Prince Arthur.” Liam dropped a bale of hay where he stood and dusted off his hands. “He wouldn’t go inside the castle though. Prince Arthur went to The Rising Sun to meet him.”

“The Rising Sun? In the middle of the day?” Merlin slowly stepped forward with the heavy pail.

Liam shrugged and grinned somewhat. “He seemed very happy to see the bloke. I don’t think he cared much.”

Merlin felt on edge. He hadn’t heard of any arrivals or any expected meetings. There was nothing like this in Arthur’s schedule. “What was his name?”

Liam answered him and Merlin dropped the pail. It spilled its water all over the floor and by the time Liam shouted at him, Merlin had already left the stables. He hurried, as fast as his tired legs could take him, to The Rising Sun, all while the name rang through his head over and over.

Lancelot.

  
**\-----84 Arthur-----**

“So, King Alined has kept his promise,” Arthur said, offering Lancelot a large mug of ale off the bar top in The Rising Sun. It was quiet in the tavern. It was occupied only by the two of them as well as three older men who were resting after long journeys and playing a round of cards at the end of a row of tables. The bar itself stood in the center at the back of the tavern with a good vantage point in all directions. There were only two small windows, and the light came only from a few candles set in holders along the walls.

Half of the tavern was arranged with rows of tables, and the other half was entirely open. A small podium stood in the corner at the back, and next to it stood a large candle holder to illuminate whoever entertained that day’s visitors. In front of the podium was an open space where people could dance. Several dried flower collections hung off the walls and gave the area a festive appearance. A large wooden beam held two large wooden doors shut, which would only be opened in summer to extend the festivities and dance to the area outdoors.

Lancelot wore a full set of armor, mail and plate combined, and a deep blue cloak lay over his shoulders. His roughly crafted helmet lay on a table beside them. “Indeed he has. He spoke very well of you, Prince Arthur. As did his heir, William.” He took the ale from Arthur and cheered him.

The news made Arthur smile brightly. He understood. This was good news. He was immensely pleased about finally receiving the benefits of his hard work and careful planning; after sending a grateful but untrustworthy man away with simply his word. Lancelot regarded him curiously and Arthur presumed he was unaware of state affairs. He thought it wise to keep it that way for now.

Lancelot took a sip of his ale and spoke, “There’s something I’m curious about, my lord, and that is why you have summoned me here. I understand this is a time of peace, though I travel with the Sarmatians now, as you know. They do not come where peace reigns.”

“I know. I have heard of them but I have yet to meet any Sarmatian man face to face,” Arthur said, and took a deep swig.

“Several of our officers are eager to meet you in person after I spoke of you, sire.”

“No doubt with great exaggerations,” Arthur said with a grin. Lancelot still looked uncomfortable, so Arthur continued. “The reason you are here is not related to imminent warfare, but to the preparations of what might come. It’s true that we have just signed a peace treaty with four of our neighbors, but this does not mean we are at peace with all of them, nor that we will stand by and let invaders take our lands from us. I need to prepare, and if that takes some years, I would rather do it with the best of men at my side, than at the very last moment with people I don’t know whether or not to trust.”

Lancelot listened carefully and nodded. He seemed conflicted over something but didn’t speak.

“I can free the coin to pay you and your men. I know you will not settle for nothing. I do not know if my father will receive you gladly, though I wish he would.”

“We are not here to request fine chambers or dinners,” Lancelot said. “We have come with accounts to share from the Southern kingdoms and we have the latest news from Essetir. We are happy to set up camps in the outer bailey of the citadel, or stay at the inns if we are allowed.”

“I must inform my father before I can agree on camps. It might upset the people in town. Your officers can stay at our inns, of course. I believe the inns are well-stocked as we have redistributed some of the wares after the peace treaties were completed.”

“I will pass your messages on to our people.”

“You have traveled with all of them?”

“Yes, the Sarmatians are a nomadic—"

The door of The Rising Sun crashed open, and in the door opening stood Merlin, framed in bright lights from the afternoon sun. Arthur noted that the stupid smile on his face was just as bright. Merlin stepped forward in great strides, looking euphoric. A small, nagging part of Arthur’s brain noted that Merlin had never looked at _him_ with such open happiness.

Lancelot eagerly turned to Merlin, who held out an arm to greet him. Instead, Lancelot wrapped him into a warm hug. He seemed to be whispering something into Merlin’s ear, which irked Arthur even more. He noticed that Merlin was wearing his old jacket, and that his arms clung to Lancelot with force.

“When you’re _quite_ finished, I need to change into my armor for this afternoon’s training,” Arthur said with a snide. Merlin’s joy dropped and he collected himself again.

“I didn’t even know you were here,” Merlin said to Lancelot. Arthur felt a pang of regret.

“I’ve only just arrived. We shall have plenty of time to catch up, I am sure.” Lancelot regarded Merlin kindly and with a look of trust.

After all, Arthur mused, Merlin had helped him to falsely become a knight. They must have shared some stories. “Tonight then,” Arthur said by means of atonement, “I shall ask my father to invite you into the castle.” Merlin looked appeased and regarded Lancelot hopefully.

“I’m afraid I cannot, my lord. After the nature of my departure, I am not eager to set foot in there until I have proven myself worthy. And the same goes for the men, for my brothers in the field. We do not expect to be welcomed at court.” As he said the humble words, his eyes dropped to the ground and he waited for Arthur to respond.

“Well, you should at least join today’s training session, Lancelot.”

“No, my lord,” Lancelot said again. “We can meet here at the tavern. Tonight. I will bring our officers, and some of our men and women, to meet with you.”

Merlin avoided Arthur’s glance.

Arthur put his hands on his hips and nodded. “Then I shall invite the knights. We shall be here by evening fall.”

  
***

Arthur descended into the armory with Merlin in tow. They hadn’t spoken the whole way back from The Rising Sun. At least, Merlin hadn’t spoken after Arthur mentioned that he needed to get changed and that he needed to think about how to address the knights. While Arthur had the distinct impression he’d done something wrong, he certainly didn’t feel that he had, and it was starting to piss him off.

The armory was nearly abandoned, apart from Rodney, Sir Caridoc’s new squire, who was finishing polishing a pair of greaves. He put the cloth down and loaded up the full armor set into a large wicker basket to take up to Caridoc’s quarters.

As Merlin lifted the hauberk for Arthur to climb into and placed the gorget and pauldron on his shoulder, he was doing so without making eye-contact. It stood in stark contrast with their recent ease and their passionate evening several nights ago, when he had heard Merlin shout his name in rapture; his sweat-covered body pressed up against the same wall where Arthur had made his confession. Merlin could be such a riddle to him.

At last Rodney left and Arthur sighed. “Alright, let’s have it,” he said with little patience left. Merlin was fastening the leather strips of his pauldron and looked up briefly.

“Let’s have what?”

“You’re acting like a child. Spit it out, Merlin.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and held his lips pressed together.

Arthur pulled his arm out of Merlin’s reach when he attempted to place the vambrace on his wrist. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“You didn’t tell me Lancelot was coming,” Merlin replied and pulled Arthur’s arm back to place the vambrace with little elegance.

“That’s because I didn’t know, until today,” he said condescendingly.

“I barely got to speak three words with him!”

“Is that it?” Arthur barked incredulously. “You’re upset because you didn’t get to, what, discuss good old times? Like when you put him forward as a nobleman’s son when he was not?”

“Is that all you remember about him?” Merlin sounded dissatisfied.

“No, but I remember you spending a great deal of time with him.”

“He’s my friend!” Merlin jutted his chin and placed the other vambrace on his other arm.

“Oh, is he now?” Arthur frowned. “Since when do I need your permission to employ your ‘friends,’ _Mer_ lin?”

“I can see why you don’t have any,” Merlin shot back.

Arthur took Merlin’s hands off the laces of the vambrace and stepped towards him, occupying his space. “I thought you were.” He looked deeply into Merlin’s eyes to find what lay beneath. “That and more.” He searched for whatever was eating him up behind that hurt look.

Merlin calmed down and whispered, “I want to speak with him.”

Arthur leaned in, feeling his resistance slowly reducing. “You’re both free men, Merlin. Who am I to stop you?”

Merlin regarded him sharply and he huffed, “You’re _jealous_.”

“Don’t be ridicu—"

The door to the armory opened and they both stepped apart. Merlin’s long fingers returned to work on the vambrace, and Arthur looked up with heated cheeks to see Gwen entering with several swords folded into a thick cloth.

“Good day, my lord,” she said with a strained voice.

“Hello, Gwen,” Arthur said aloof.

Gwen lowered the swords onto one of the work benches and unfolded the cloth. She was wearing one of her lilac winter dresses with a corset that she had embroidered herself. “Any news, perhaps?” she asked after several moments of awkward silence. She regarded both of them, her dark eyes keenly observing, while she placed the swords into a wooden rack.

Merlin looked up at Arthur as he picked up the sword belt from his armor pile. He lifted one eyebrow at him and tilted his head slightly.

“Yes, well, um,” Arthur began. He avoided returning Merlin’s gaze and instead regarded Gwen. He offered her a small smile and said, “As a matter of fact, some guests have arrived. Not of my father but… of Camelot of sorts. We are to meet them this evening at The Rising Sun, and…”—he held his breath a moment—“Lancelot is among the guests.”

Gwen gaped momentarily and recovered. She carefully lowered the last sword into the rack with her long, slender fingers and folded her hands in front of her. “Oh, that sounds nice.”

Arthur lifted his arms as Merlin strapped his sword belt around him, tightly, and with some force. He sucked in somewhat and awkwardly added, “Of course, since it’s a feast, we shall expect to see you there. If my father is fine with the arrangements, of course.”

He noticed how Gwen’s whole countenance had changed. She paced unsteadily across the room and picked up the cloth which had carried the swords. She held it in front of her and nodded. “Yes, sire. I mean, I shall consider the invitation, sire.”

Merlin fixed the belt strap with a tight yank. Arthur lowered his arms again and said, “You would be very welcome there, Gwen.”

She smiled and looked away but nodded. “Thank you, sire. Should I tell the staff?”

“After I’ve conferred with my father, if you will.”

“Yes, sire.” And she left.

After waiting several seconds for her footsteps to fade, Arthur accepted the gloves that Merlin handed to him. Merlin was looking at him with a cheeky, dimpled smile which made him feel content. Clearly, Merlin’s earlier unease about missing his friend was diminished. He put on his gloves and shook his head at Merlin. He listened for any further footsteps and when there were none he leaned in, cupped his cheek and kissed him quickly, firmly, and despite all the risks involved. “You will be be my undoing, Merlin,” he whispered.

He left the armory then to attend the training sessions in the throne room. One quick glance back showed him his manservant with an indecipherable look on his face. He was greeted by Sir Leon, so he couldn’t turn back anymore, and proceeded to attend his duties.

  
**\-----85 Morgana-----**

Morgana had been requested to attend the throne room and she crossed the halls towards it, despising the very thought of sitting next to Uther again for one of his official receptions. She had avoided the man as much as she could recently. She was quite bothered.

That morning she had sat alone in her room pondering about the spell for fire. The word had burned in her mind, over and over again, and she had felt that her magic was eager for action. She had properly dressed herself in a simple robe and only chosen a few rings for her fingers. Her hair wasn’t fixed, instead it lay loose around her shoulders. It was her own fault, she had told Gwen to help out where she was needed at the castle. What she had neglected to add was that she didn’t want Gwen lingering in her room.

It felt wrong somehow, instinctively, to send Gwen away. She was a friend, and Morgana had offered her a place at her table for sewing. And yet, Morgana wanted Gwen to be away so that she could embrace her own true nature. On top of that, there had been a second note from Morgause early that morning, left at her window sill again. When she had read it, the note asked for a meeting at the gates to the citadel the following morning. And that Morgause would be in disguise.

Morgause wanted to see her again. It made all Morgana’s hopes and tensions worse than before. Perhaps she would finally receive some detailed answers about her bracelet, perhaps she would learn what Morgause knew about her magic, and why her name rang so familiar to her.

Why had she been contacted? And would Morgause truly take action against Uther? The thought filled her with a pleasant warmth which grew every hour. The world would be a better place without that hateful man destroying the nation and its people.

She had stalked around her room all morning thinking about it, and ended up doing her hair herself, pinning her loose strands of hair with beautiful combs and decorated pins. It had looked a mess and she had undone it all, opting instead to comb it until it shone. Despite her determination, she hated attending the king and the knights looking this way. What would Sir Owain think?

When she entered the throne room, various knights and several commoners bowed to her, but no one addressed her aloud. The room stank of sweaty men and weapon oils from the earlier training sessions. Fortunately, the straw had been brushed aside.

She walked up to the dais and took her seat at her throne. She was self-conscious about the bracelet around her wrist, which demanded her constant attention lately. She didn’t interact with anyone. The knights were all fully dressed, ready to continue their training in the hall right after the audience with the king was concluded. Sir Owain was among them, and she avoided his occasional glances expertly.

The audience began. Several peasants had traveled far to bring them a message. They were from the north she guessed, judging by the style of their clothes. Their outfits were much like the peasants she had seen when she grew up, and it stirred something deep within her; a thought, a memory perhaps. Everyone had gathered to this attendance. Even Gaius had left his workshop and was standing in the audience. There was apparently much unease.

Holden stepped forward from the crowd and nodded to one of the peasants. “Tell the king what you have told me.”

“I'm a herder from the northern plains, sire. Three nights back, we were camped beneath the walls of Idirsholas.” The man held his hat out in front of him as if it offered him some sort of protection against the grand appearance Uther made before him.  
  
The king leaned on his gloved hand. “I'm not sure I would've chosen such a place.”  
  
“Good pasture is scarce at this time of year, sire.”

Morgana knew he was right. The North had been plagued with poor yields, and the patrols had been increased in the region. It had been discussed less than a month ago. She glanced at Arthur who didn’t look too troubled, but was pretending to, rubbing his hand over his lips. His gaze was miles away.

  
“And what is it you have to tell me?” Uther demanded.  
  
“While we were there, we—we saw smoke rising from the citadel.”  
  
Morgana lifted her brows at the peasant’s words. Perhaps these were the fires from her recurring vision. Her skin tingled and she felt goosebumps all over her body. Was this the fearful vision, or something else?

  
To her surprise Gaius spoke up, “And did you see anything else?”  
  
“No,” the man answered, glancing between the king and the physician.  
  
Uther seemed to consider something. “Did you go inside?”  
  
“No,” the peasant answered. “Nobody has stepped over that threshold for 300 years! You must know the legend, sire.”  
  
Gaius nodded at the man gravely when Uther didn’t respond. “It is said that when the fires of Idirsholas burn, the Knights of Medhir will ride again.” 

“See to it that this man is fed and has a bed for the night,” Uther said to Holden. He turned to Arthur. “Take a ride out there, tomorrow.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“So we can put people's minds at rest,” Uther declared. Morgana wondered if she actually saw real fear in Uther’s eyes this time. She fought against a small smile forming at the thought. If this legend scared him, she was interested.  
  
Arthur, being his bull-headed self, leaned back in his seat and remained entirely unconcerned. “Surely this is superstitious nonsense?” he put forward. While Morgana wished that these tales were true, she knew that Uther could vastly exaggerate. She also knew that Arthur took a more moderate approach nowadays. She wanted to warn him against the fires, but decided to stay quiet. No one would heed her words after all. Besides, what if she was wrong?  
  
Uther decided that Arthur’s resistance was a mild nuisance and said, “You will gather the guard and do as I say. You ride out tomorrow.”

“Yes, father,” Arthur conceded.

The small group of peasants were escorted outside by Holden and once the door was closed, Arthur spoke up.

“Father, might this be related to the messengers who have not returned to us? The winter is not so harsh that we should be missing so many riders.”

“That is unlikely, Arthur. We must be patient and wait for news.”

“What if we are being cut off from any news reaching us?” Morgana proposed. She saw a flicker of panic in Uther’s eyes and reveled in it.

“I have a proposition to make,” Arthur said and stood up from his throne. He shifted his gaze to Morgana for a moment and then turned back to his father. “I have wanted for some time to speak to one of the Sarmatian warrior bands. It so happens that one of those bands is traveling towards us now. I have received one of their outriders, and he says that he has brought us news about Essetir, and other important messages too.”

“I don’t know these men, Arthur. They’re not from Camelot, I hardly think it appropriate to welcome them.”

“Of course, I understand. Nevertheless, they are formidable warriors and the news they provide to us may be of consequence. I wish to speak with them. I can do so in town, if you please.”

“These men work only for coin, their word may be changed by the highest bidder, Arthur. I implore you to be careful. Take the knights with you.”

“Yes, father.” Arthur turned to look at the knights who had gathered around him and there was a hint of a smile on his face. He nodded at Gwen and said at last, “I will make the arrangements.”

It made Morgana wonder. Who were these men?

  
***

That evening she had dinner in her chambers and Gwen joined her, sitting beside her, sewing one of Arthur’s projects. Morgana had spent some time with Geoffrey that afternoon, trying to understand more about who the Sarmatians were, and where their strengths lay. It turned out that there was precious little known about them, apart from their great skills in open-field combat and that they were highly strategic.

Gwen looked troubled, as if something was on her mind. Morgana hadn’t asked her anything specific yet, because she had been lost in thought about Morgause, about magic, about the druids in Camelot, and finally, the Sarmatians—what if they used magic too? What if their arrival here at the citadel would be their doom, if they would be lost in the flames of her visions? Or were they the cause?

“Have you ever heard of this place, Idirsholas?” Gwen asked her.

“Of course, it was not far from where I grew up. My father pointed out the towers to me in the distance when we went out riding. We were always told not to go too close.”

“What does it mean, what those men said?”

Morgana took a sip of her wine and pondered. “I’m not certain, but they all seemed very afraid. They took a six day ride in a year with poor yield.” When she saw Gwen pale, she added, “Don’t worry, Arthur’s going to take care of it.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she said with a troubled smile.

“Gwen, why do you look so concerned?”

Gwen looked up and smiled at her apologetically. She had that innate kindness in her that never demanded anything and yet always and absolutely demanded kindness in return. It had held Morgana sane for the past few years, she was convinced.

“I’m not certain,” she began, taking out several needles from a red stuffed doublet she was making. “I was just thinking, well, about Merlin actually.”

She felt icy cold for a moment. Had Gwen seen her talk to him, overheard any of their conversations about magic? It couldn’t be, she wouldn’t be sitting here if there was something else she had on her mind. Not Gwen. “What has he done now?” Morgana offered with a smile. She thought it best to joke about him and remove any cause for concern. He was her only source for anything valuable regarding magic, even if it was only a little.

“Well, it’s not exactly about that. Do you know if he’s been seeing anyone?”

“ _Merlin_?” She laughed hastily. Had he been seen sneaking around? Was Gwen alluding to his visits to her chambers from time to time? “Not that I know of, why?”

“It’s just, well, there was something I thought I heard, but… it’s probably nothing.” Gwen shrugged and put the doublet down on the table, chewing her lip.

“Is something else bothering you?” She picked up her goblet and took a small sip of wine, trying to hide her nervousness.

“Well, not exactly,” she began.

“Come, Gwen. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She held out her hand and covered Gwen’s with it.

Her maidservant smiled and answered at last, “I know I promised to be here, but I might have had an invitation, tonight that is, and…”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “Is it anyone I know?”

“No, well, actually…” Gwen lowered her head for a moment and Morgana swore she could see her trying to hide some sort of smile. “Arthur is seeing the Sarmatians, and I’m curious to go as well. Some of the other servants have talked about attending already.”

“But naturally,” Morgana said. “You should go!” _At last_ , she thought. Despite Gwen being the very best caretaker, she needed to be alone. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting through the evening with company.

Gwen smiled and packed up her needles and clips with haste.

Morgana got up from her chair and walked over to her vanity. When she rounded back on her servant, she held two small white earrings in her hands. “Here, you should wear these. They stand off against your hair. I’m sure you will make a wonderful impression.”

Gwen blushed and looked down as Morgana fastened them into her ears. “What about you? Will you join?”

Morgana sat back down and sipped her wine with a small smile.

  
**\-----86 Merlin-----**

Merlin set off straight to The Rising Sun once he had set Arthur’s meal down in front of him in his chambers, after he changed him out of his armor and into his evening clothes. They had only briefly discussed the requirements of their early departure the next morning to Idirsholas. But when Merlin had reprimanded him on kissing him in the armory, telling him that it was too much of a risk, Arthur had asked him what else was going on.

Of course, he had denied that anything was going on. How could he tell Arthur how hard it was to believe in all they had, and still know that one day he must watch Arthur die? The knowledge gnawed on him and a lump formed in his throat each time he thought about it. The more he reflected on what the Great Dragon told him, the more the prophecy gnawed at him. It was quietly tearing him apart like a hot knife permanently stuck in his ribs. Their planned voyage to Idirsholas instilled real fear in him and he couldn’t place why.

Once he was outside in the courtyard he looked up to Arthur’s window to see him staring down, with an arm leaning against the window sill above his head. Merlin stopped his pace and stared up at him. It was already dark and the light from within the room framed the prince’s silhouette, hugging his body, which Merlin was getting to know very well.

He felt pleased that Arthur was looking at him and simultaneously annoyed that he seemed to have anticipated him. He wanted to talk to Lancelot, Arthur knew that. Though he loved Arthur, he had to admit that they had difficulties sometimes. And they would face many troubles yet to come. If they couldn’t face them side by side, they would end up losing. From his window, Arthur held his gaze for some time before retreating into his chambers.

Merlin hurried through the gate and into the lower town where he steered left, pushing open the heavy wooden door to The Rising Sun. His mouth fell open. The tavern was filled with men and women with strange clothes and strange appearances. Merlin could tell that these people lived mostly outdoors, and that their leathery skin had seen much sun. Some of them spoke in tongues that he did not recognize. At the podium, several musicians were tuning and strumming their instruments in preparation of a performance.

“Merlin!” Lancelot pushed through the crowd. He was wearing a blue doublet with an odd sigil embroidered onto it. Perhaps it was intended to be a symbol, but Merlin couldn’t decipher what it was. “Come, let me introduce you to our officers.” Merlin followed Lancelot and found himself encircled by several fierce-looking men who had clearly seen many battles. He immediately had a large tankard of apple cider shoved into his hands.

Lancelot introduced the men to Merlin one by one. Galahad had dark hair and a fine, dark beard. He wore a sword on each side of his hips and his brown eyes pierced shrewdly. Bohrs was a bald man with a thick beard, built sturdy and unmovable, almost like a bear. Percival was the tallest one, with a friendly face and wistful eyes; he wore a long coat of boiled leather, which spared his arms. Finally, Lamorak was a shorter man, lanky but with an easy smile on his face.

“And this”—Lancelot placed a hand on Merlin’s shoulder—“is Merlin. He is Prince Arthur’s manservant and my friend.”

Merlin found several glances observing him as if they knew much more about him than that. It unnerved him greatly. What if Lancelot had told them about his magic? He wouldn’t, would he? Percival especially kept his gaze on him for some time. Merlin shrugged it off, raised his tankard to them and cheered. “I hope you will all have a merry stay,” he said, grinning like an idiot. The men shoved their tankards forward and drank, right as the music began.

The performers were Sarmatians and they played a cheerful tune unknown to Merlin. Several people got up and started pushing tables aside to create extra room to dance. Evoric, the tavern keeper, looked on with great amusement as several men from the lower town joined in and drunkenly attempted the same footwork, and yelled, “Easy going, you daft bastards!”

Watching the people dance and mingle with the town folk, Merlin could forget the predicaments he was in. The apple cider was unwinding the knot of worries inside of him. He thought instead about some private time he might have with Arthur before their journey. They wouldn’t have time, not with the urgent request to head out the following morning. He tried to put it from his mind and turned to Lancelot instead. “What happened after you left? How did you become one of them?”

“I’m not really one of them,” Lancelot answered. “When I traveled south, they found me fishing at a lake and asked if I would share some of my catch. It turned out that they had just fought a heavy battle and lost several good men. Their enemy was planning to enter their encampment and slay their women and children. I told them that if they could arm me I would be happy to defend them.”

“Killed twelve enemies in a single combat,” Galahad said, and he looked very impressed. “Saved my wife and children while he was at it. And those of Bohrs.”

“The name Lancelot du Lac will travel far,” Percival said. Lancelot stayed quiet but was clearly satisfied.

“So, where did you go, what have you seen?” Merlin asked.

“Before I joined them, I traveled South and worked for coin. It was mostly fighting. I have to admit, I was not certain whether all fights were honorable. And being adopted into the Sarmatian clan, as a guest, allows me not to worry about the honor behind the task. The officers choose our plights and I can be justified in their suitability.”

“Lancelot,” Galahad said with a grin, “we are here to enjoy ourselves. Now tell us some jokes, or else we’ll let Bohrs have the honors.” Bohrs offered a stoic grin which revealed a missing tooth in his lower jaw. Lancelot raised his hands up in surrender and Bohrs began.

“I knew an old bishop who had lost some of his teeth, and he complained of others being so loose that he was afraid they would soon fall out. ‘Never fear,’ said one of his friends. ‘They won’t fall.’ ‘And why not?’ enquired the bishop. His friend replied, ‘Because my testicles have been hanging loose for the last forty years, as if they were going to fall off, and yet, there they are still.’”

The men hooted with laughter and brought their cups together. Bohrs continued, “A young Frankish woman, somewhat of a simpleton, was on the point of delivering a baby. She had long been enduring heavy pains, and the midwife, candle in hand, inspected her secret area, in order to ascertain if the child was coming. ‘Look also on the other side,’ said the poor creature. ‘My husband has sometimes taken that road.’”

The men howled and shouted and clapped Bohrs on his shoulder and if Merlin’s ears were beet-red, none seemed to notice. The Sarmatians pleasantly exchanged observations about the tavern, the women present, and the drink while Merlin quietly enjoyed his cider. When the men laughed, they did so freely and without restraint. It was a pleasant variation from the seriousness Merlin experienced from the members at court, and he began to relax.

The music changed to a dancing song, which Merlin recognized as The Falcon and the Swallow. Many people cheered and began to shuffle to find dancing partners. Suddenly Lancelot huffed and whispered, “Oh, mercy...”

Merlin followed his gaze to see Gwen stepping onto the dance floor with one of the Sarmatian visitors. Lancelot stared at her and at once seemed lost to any other thoughts or words. Merlin hid his grin behind his cup at seeing his friend’s reaction. Nothing had changed for him, that much was evident. Gwen looked wonderful as she had dressed up for the evening, wearing her lilac dress with an even prettier white corset over it. She had finished the ensemble with a pair of small white earrings and she had put her hair up. A single loose, teasing curl graced her neck at the back.

Percival leaned over and gave Lancelot a heavy clap on his shoulder. “This is your maiden?”

“Yes. But she is not my maiden. I have given my word.”

Merlin bit his lip. He recalled the day Lancelot had left and said, “Have you really thought about that? You have essentially given me your word. You’ve never asked _her_.”

Lancelot regarded him with difficulty and shook his head. “I did not think it appropriate,” he said.

“You didn’t give her a chance, you gave up,” Merlin reproached him. “In doing so, did you not give up on her?”

“She was... very clear.”

Percival nudged him forward and said, “Who has ever understood women?”

While Lancelot struggled against Percival’s blunt gesture, Merlin added with a silly grin, “I release you from your promise.”

Percival crossed his arms. “One dance. She can say no if she’s not inclined.”

Merlin grinned into his cup and decided that he liked this Percival. Lancelot eyed them both with some difficulty and handed his drink over to them. “This had better be here when I get back.”

At last, Lancelot was pushing through the crowd. Percival grinned at him and waved him off, then proceeded to down Lancelot’s drink in one go. “Yeah, no chance of that.”

Merlin chuckled.

“Come, let’s take a look,” Percival said, and they moved towards the edge of the group of dancers to observe the various couples and the way they jumped and twirled around. They joined Lancelot there, and Percival effectively blocked his route of escape. The singer continued his merry tune of The Falcon and the Swallow, chanting their humorous tale of love. Gwen was dancing arm in arm with her dancing partner, swishing her skirts, and lifting her free hand in the air elegantly as all the women were.

Lancelot broke free from the spectators and pushed through the dancing couples. He cut into the dance. Gwen was startled enough to nearly stumble, but Lancelot’s hand steadied her at the waist.

Merlin observed the difficulty Lancelot had in conveying his greeting to her, and they stood still among the dancers for several seconds. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but Gwen was smiling widely. She was the one who fell into step with the music once more and guided him along. Merlin noticed that he knew his footwork well, and together they were soon part of the dancing mob, clearly oblivious to all around them.

“What’s all this then?!”

Merlin shivered with delight at hearing Arthur’s voice, which boomed through the tavern from the door opening. Everyone stopped talking, the music paused, and all the dancers turned around.

Prince Arthur entered, followed by a congregation of his knights. He was wearing something festive, a white shirt with a red jacket over it, adorned with his red stone necklace. However, the knights had come in armor and it stood in stark contrast to the simple woolen and leather tunics the Sarmatians had chosen to wear for that evening. From the corner of his eyes, Merlin noticed Gwen stepping aside from Lancelot.

Arthur crossed the distance towards the bar, ignoring everyone present. “I see that you’ve started this feast without me.” The crowd remained silent. Merlin wondered what he was planning. Evoric stammered something unintelligible. Arthur turned around to observe the guests and put a hand on the bartop holding a bag of coins. He addressed the tavern as a whole, “Be that as it may, tonight we welcome you, Sarmatians. If you uphold the laws of Camelot you will find yourself safe here, as my guests. The next round of drinks, for all men and women present, is on me!”

A delighted cheer went through the tavern and people raised their tankards to Arthur. Lamorak grinned and Galahad said, “A fine offer, Prince Arthur.” Sir Leon, Sir Kay, Sir Caridoc, Sir Bedivere, and Sir Owain gathered around Arthur in expectation of receiving their drinks at the bar before any others, as befit their station.

Merlin observed from a distance how Galahad stepped forward and introduced himself and his most loyal men by pointing them out in the room. Lancelot was suddenly at Galahad’s side, standing next to the bar and spoke with him and Arthur. He looked rather flustered and was pulling his sleeves down to be properly presented. Merlin could hardly forget how much Lancelot had always been in awe of the knights.

The music started playing again and this time a female singer began with a high note to sing of a tale. Merlin felt pleasant shivers down his spine when Arthur looked at him, even if it was just a brief glance. He fought the smile which threatened to spread across his face, but he couldn’t keep the pride that reached his eyes under control. It welled up within him with a force he was unprepared for. The prince must have noticed because he lifted both eyebrows.

Merlin nearly jumped when Gwen greeted him and immediately regretted ogling the prince so openly. There were far too many people around. “Gwen, hi! You came!”

“Of course I did. May I have this dance?”

“You’re asking _me_?”

“Why not?” Her smile was bright and she seemed determined.

Behind them other people were dancing. Merlin hesitated. He knew the steps, but he had never put himself forward at any of the royal feasts. He hadn’t taken any room in the spotlight, ever, except for strategic reasons. And this was nothing like that, was it? But there had rarely been good music to dance to at the tavern, and he’d hardly had the chance to attend when there was. “Well, why not?” He offered her his hand and they joined the others on the dance floor.

It turned out that Gwen was a great dancer. She energetically followed the steps, passing through other couples, bowing, clapping, and jumping where the song required it. Merlin danced with her and couldn’t remember a time where he had felt this elated. He couldn’t figure out where he got the energy to dance like this either.

None of the people here paid him any special mind. They were Sarmatians after all; they did not know him, or judge him. Only Arthur and the knights knew him and they should hardly wonder at seeing him dance to a common folk song. When he looked over, he noticed that Arthur and Lancelot were glancing in their direction.

The song changed to a different one and Gwen was smiling, so he danced that one with her too. Percival had also found a dancing partner and though he was quite a lump on the dance floor, the women present indulged him anyway and cheered him on whether he did the steps right or wrong. Merlin’s unrestrained joy bubbled out of him in free laughter. He couldn’t remember feeling this free.

After the song ended, Gwen got both of them drinks at the bar and they stood close to Arthur, who was in discussion with Galahad and the others. Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere had retreated to the back of the tavern to escape the bustle of people, and instead had taken to gambling. Sir Caridoc was paying attention to Arthur. Only Sir Leon and Sir Owain joined Merlin and Gwen for now, greeting them and cheering their drinks.

“So what do you make of these people?” Leon asked them.

“Well, they have very good manners,” Gwen said, eyeing Lancelot’s back from time to time.

“Surely not better than the people in Camelot? I say we have it fine as we are,” Owain said. He was glancing around the room, measuring all the guests. He seemed to be looking for someone in particular.

Leon shrugged. “I have doubts King Uther will receive them. They are not the sort he is used to dealing with. Even if a parlay with the officers might be acceptable, as a whole they are too large a people—they will be categorized as invaders, and word will be sent to our patrols to ensure the Sarmatians don’t feed off our land, mark my words.”

Merlin frowned. Gwen tilted her head saying, “They kill our enemies, but we wouldn’t let them hunt their own game?”

“I’m not saying—” Leon started.

“Damn right,” Owain interrupted. “We don’t need their protection. We never asked for it.”

Merlin saw Gwen’s countenance change and even Leon kept quiet at the remark, so he changed the topic. “I can’t make out what Lancelot’s sigil depicts. What do you think it is?”

Gwen pursed her lips and looked down, her eyes twinkling. “I have no idea, to be honest.”

Leon smiled. “I’m sure he put a lot of thought into it.”

“Just not so much skill,” Owain offered, and downed his ale. “But you can’t really blame them, these savages. They won’t have fine hands like you, Gwen.”

“What makes me less savage, sir? For certain my birth was not high,” Gwen asked him, her voice sweet but firm.

“Well, you serve Lady Morgana, and you hold that position well. You have honor,” Owain explained simply.

“That she does,” Leon agreed.

“All right, Merlin?” Arthur appeared behind him, a firm hand squeezing his shoulder. It was all he could do to prevent his knees from buckling. “Hello, Gwen,” Arthur continued in the same breath. “You look great this evening.”

“Thank you, sire,” she said pleasantly while Caridoc and Percival joined them as well. Lancelot had remained where he was. He wore a puzzled look on his face. “Please excuse me,” Gwen said and took her leave, edging towards him.

Merlin felt the fingers still digging into his shoulders while Arthur spoke to his knights. His head instantly swam with visions of the evenings he had spent together with Arthur, and with what else he would have in mind for him. Even when Arthur let go, he reveled in his close presence, the warmth in his gut stirring something up. He was careful to occasionally shift his glance elsewhere, but as if by some primal pull, they ended up on Arthur again; on his back, on the skin of his arms, revealed beneath the pushed-up sleeves, on the shadows along his wrists, on the curve of his arse. The apple cider wasn’t helping him much, or perhaps it was helping him a lot. He shook himself out of it by sheer determination, as well as fear of discovery.

Fortunately for Merlin, Galahad pushed forward into the group with another round of drinks to offer and was grinning widely, despite the obvious sour look on Caridoc’s face and Owain’s hesitation. Leon thanked him with a nod and cheered at Galahad with his tankard. Despite Arthur’s best intentions, the knights were having a hard time talking to the Sarmatians. The prince started rambling, “Dennett and Liam will take excellent care of your horses. Was it you who sent the two beasts to us?”

Galahad shook his head. “No, I don’t think it was. There are several traveling families though, so perhaps another group thought of it. I can ask around for you.”

Percival spoke up, “They speak their own language as well, but they are a very accepting bunch. Not all the men are born Sarmatians.”

“I take it you were not then?” Arthur asked.

“No, I was born in Camelot. After my family was attacked, I spent several years looking for the Holy Grail. I learned to fight to defend myself, and joined the clan four years ago. And this year, we invited Lancelot.”

Merlin looked around for his friend and spotted him somewhere else in the tavern. He was talking to Gwen. And they were holding hands.

  
**\-----87 Arthur-----**

Arthur followed Merlin’s gaze to Lancelot and pursed his lips in amusement. “So, Lancelot has become a knight after all?” _And Gwen had accepted the invitation._

She looked like she had made an effort, and he noticed that she looked radiant while she spoke with Lancelot. It was the type of look which Arthur recognized as the one Merlin reserved for him in private.

“Oh no, we don’t call ourselves knights,” Galahad answered.

“We are warriors for coin and we wouldn’t classify ourselves as anything else,” Lamorak explained. “It would not suit the men of noble birth very well if we did.” He winked at Owain, who shrugged. Caridoc looked unhappy. He hadn’t expected much flexibility out of Caridoc to begin with, but he did expect an effort.

“We are also the bringers of news,” Galahad said.

“Yes, I am eager to hear all about what you’ve got to tell me. Tomorrow I must begin a journey North on a mission for Camelot, so I won’t be able to receive you at court until I’ve returned. We expect to be back within a week.” He needed to know if Uther would accept these men at his table, to talk about their news and to accept their proposals. He couldn’t bring untrustworthy fighters to his father, or he would be ridiculed for his attempt. So all his efforts that evening were to lay bare their intentions.

“You miss our meaning.” Lamorak grinned. “We don’t intend to go to court at all. We just work where we are needed to work.”

“Will you still tell me your news?” he asked.

“Since you have paid for our drinks, I believe we must,” Galahad said and lifted his tankard. “Though I am certain you will not like it.”

Merlin stood between Leon and Percival, which made him look small for once, Arthur noticed. He wasn’t talking, perhaps sensing that being the quiet servant would be best for that night. If only he would stop giving him lustful looks like he was doing, because it was driving his concentration straight out the window.

“Thank you, Sir Galahad,” Arthur said, willing his brain to work.

Galahad slammed his empty tankard down on the table next to him. “No ‘ _sir,_ ’ I ask you. Let us keep our customs, and you keep yours. Though I won’t say the same about women folk.” Galahad grinned widely at him.

Arthur was taken aback momentarily. Caridoc and Owain looked rather shocked at the statement. For a moment no-one spoke. Everyone was waiting for him, he realized, too late. So he laughed out loud. “Well said!” An uneasy chuckle spread across the men, and Merlin was eyeing him with amusement from behind his large tankard. That was _not_ helping.

Galahad cleared his throat. “The news from the Southwest isn’t good. The last time we were there, some weeks back, there had been a sighting of a few hundred ships off the Southern shores, near Kent. If this is true, there could be a few thousand warriors coming to shore to start a war.”

“You’re talking about Saxons, yes?” Arthur pushed.

“Of course,” Galahad answered. “But there is worse, I’m afraid.”

“Is there anything worse than Saxons?” Arthur laughed. His knights grumbled in acknowledgement while the Sarmatians looked on blankly. Arthur cleared his throat. “So what is worse, Sir Galahad—er, Galahad, I mean?”

Merlin snorted and left the group, heading for the bar. Arthur felt instantly bereft.

“We have had knews about Essetir. Apparently Cenred has allied with the witch Morgause. What they are planning seems to be aimed at the borders of Camelot. We passed the area and saw the spoils of a great battle. We saw many slain soldiers with the sigil of the sea serpent, so we know it was Cenred who attacked.”

“Wait, within Camelot?”

Lancelot rejoined them and got a clap on his shoulder from Galahad, and a drink shoved into his hands without even asking. “No,” Galahad continued, “it could be that they battled the Angles. We didn’t see any banners or cloaks from Camelot. But it’s close to your borders. They might be moving through the area. I don’t know what the witch is doing either.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. If Morgause had really allied with Cenred and they were commanding armies, it could be that they were aiming to make a move against Camelot. This made his journey to Idirsholas even more risky. What if there would be an attack while he was away? It would be about the same distance North to Idirsholas as it would be to travel East to the borders with Essetir, even on the Roman roads. If they left tomorrow morning and Cenred somehow knew this, it could be a trap.

On top of that, their messengers had not returned lately, which meant that perhaps there had already been an attack on one or more of their outposts. With the cold weather, any number of survivors might suffer grave attrition.

He was brought back to the present by Merlin emerging beside him with a new drink. “Thank you,” he said and took the drink out of Merlin’s hands, ignoring the mild squawk he got in reply.

“I paid for it with my own coin,” Merlin protested softly. Lancelot looked up at that.

“That’s why I said ‘ _thank you_ ,’” Arthur said and lifted the drink to his mouth. He needed to take the edge off. He needed to figure out if he could present these men to his father. Besides, he couldn’t have Merlin drunk, not the evening before their departure.

Merlin huffed and turned around to talk to Lancelot instead. He turned his shoulder to Arthur and made a show of asking Lancelot how his training had been.

Lancelot smiled brightly. “It’s been great, I’ve learned a variety of new skills, including longbow on horseback and combat with two swords. It’s been very interesting.”

Merlin was clearly very impressed. He turned around very briefly to lift an eyebrow at Arthur. These were not skills the knights of Camelot practiced, and Merlin seemed to know that very well, Arthur thought warily. He felt annoyed.

Merlin was clearly baiting him, but he wouldn’t get his drink back. Arthur offered his back to Merlin and turned instead to Lamorak, who had just rejoined their group. “What other tales do you have to tell of your travels here?”

“Much rain, and then some more,” Lamorak answered. “And at night, taverns filled with good ale. I think the best ale is to be found near the Wulch Woods.” The men around him nodded in agreement. “Despite the dangers.”

“What dangers lurk down there?”

“Have you ever been there, Prince Arthur?”

Arthur took another sip of his drink. “Those woods lie just outside our borders, don’t they? Just over the steep hills near Gedref?”

“That’s right,” Lamorak acknowledged with a dangerous tone in his voice.

“Then yes, I have been there once,” Arthur said.

Lamorak grinned. “So, you have not heard? There lurked an insatiable man-eating beast.”

From behind him he heard Merlin whisper, “Looks like you left quite an impression.”

Arthur inhaled part of his drink and ended up coughing loudly, cursing under his breath. Leon stood next to him and took his drink away. “It’s fine, Leon.” He patted his chest and cleared his throat. Damn Merlin for catching him off-guard like that. Was he getting back at him for the joke about the stain?

Lamorak was waiting for Arthur to stop coughing and continued, “This beast lived in a deep cave, and once or twice a year it would come out and ravage whole villages. It was a man, but it had wings and a long tail. Some even said it had feathers.”

When Arthur thought it was safe, he glanced over his shoulder to Merlin who was following Lancelot’s conversation, pointedly ignoring him. Arthur did not fail to notice the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, though.

“Well, whatever it was, we’ve destroyed it with our bows and our swords!” Lamorak said. “The beast made the mistake of crossing our path when we were traveling through the valleys, and we chased it down into the hole it called home, until at the very deepest cavern the beast was slain!”

Many men cheered at the tale, and Arthur applauded them too, simultaneously thinking how he would get back at Merlin.

Meanwhile, Lamorak and Galahad had begun telling jokes again, choosing Leon as their next victim. “So a wife-hater is attending the burial of his wife, who has just died. When someone asks, 'Who is it who rests in peace here?' He answers, 'Me, now that I'm rid of her!’” They guffawed in Leon’s stunned face.

“Oh, and remember this one,” Lamorak continued. “Down in London, a man was setting out his bird net in the river when a boy walks by and asks him out of fun what birds he is going to catch with that net of his. ‘I am going to the brothel’s outlet,’ said the man, ‘to spread my net there, and catch your mother.’ ‘Mind you search the place carefully,’ retorted the boy. ‘For you will be sure to find yours there also.’”

Arthur chuckled despite himself and found that Leon had a hard time keeping a straight face. Beside them, Bohrs was shaking with quiet laughter. Galahad was the only one openly enjoying the joke. Caridoc left them where they stood and went instead to Kay and Bedivere to see how fate had fortuned their gambles. He realized that he hadn’t seen Gwen in some time. This was likely a good thing, with the jokes turning crude as they were. He hoped that she was not put out; it was far too early to sleep.

He finished Merlin’s drink and turned around to his manservant. He had been talking to Lancelot for quite a long time now and he couldn’t explain why it bothered him like this.

“He’s also—” Merlin noticed Arthur and stopped instantly.

“I’m also what, Merlin?” He put a hand on his hip.

Merlin gave him a defensive look. “Who says I’m talking about you?” He hastily added, “Sire?”

Arthur regarded the challenge in his eyes and felt heat prickling on his neck. He couldn’t remember when he had started to love all the various ways Merlin looked at him. “Well who are you talking about then?”

Merlin licked his lips. “About King Uther, and how he treats his knights with equal measure of honor and terror.”

Arthur barked a laugh and measured him up. Merlin was definitely into his cups to be talking this openly. “Fear can be an adequate tool to rule.”

Lancelot stepped in between them, as he seemed to be sensing that this could get out of control. “No one follows fear willingly, sire.”

“I don’t think anyone ever does,” Merlin said and turned to Lancelot, whispering loudly, “He bullies me all the time.”

Lancelot turned to Arthur with a serious frown and said, “I had hoped to find a man who would be open to respect, and who treats men equally.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but over Lancelot’s shoulder he saw the lascivious look on Merlin’s face, which hit him with a force of intense pleasure. He looked away momentarily as he felt felt the heat rise. It was risky what Merlin did, looking at him like that in the open. Anyone focusing on them could see. For all the warnings Merlin offered him in private, he seemed to be ignoring them now.

Lancelot turned around to Merlin once more, who instantly offered a straight face, like only he could do. “You should not suffer such harsh words,” Lancelot offered.

“Perhaps not,” Merlin said honestly. He regarded his new drink unsteadily.

“ _Perhaps_ you shouldn’t have been drinking, _Mer_ lin. We’re to ride out in the morning. What were you thinking?” Arthur berated him instead.

“Let us ride with you, Prince Arthur,” Lancelot offered.

“No, this is not your plight. Just get your people settled safely near the Forest of Ascetir in the East. We should be back in a few days. And keep an eye out to what’s coming.”

“We’re going alone?” Merlin asked. Arthur didn’t miss the hope in his voice.

“With the knights of Camelot. You heard my father. You’re really into your cups, aren’t you?” he offered with concern.

Merlin looked at Arthur helplessly.

“Right, that’s it. I’m taking you back to Gaius,” he said, and hauled Merlin towards the door by his arm. He greeted Sir Leon and Sir Bedivere goodnight—the others were somewhere else in the tavern—and pushed the door open. He shoved Merlin outside into the cool night air, and felt relief flood over him when the door closed and the noise was trapped inside.

They walked next to each other for several steps, Arthur’s hand still on Merlin’s arm, until Merlin pulled it back and steadied his feet.

“At last,” Merlin said with a small grin.

  
**\-----88 Merlin-----**

Together, they crossed the frosty, dark road back towards the castle. Arthur walked closely beside him, elbows and shoulders bumping. Finally, they would have some time alone for the night.

“Weren’t you having a good time?” Arthur asked.

Oh, he had been having a great time. The music was good, the cider was good, the company was fantastic. Arthur’s jealousy over his attentions to Lancelot was, if anything, adorable. “I was,” Merlin hesitated, “but we will be traveling for several days, if not longer. We don’t know what’s out there.”

“I know. That’s how it has to be,” Arthur acknowledged.

They wouldn’t have any time to talk to each other, to convey anything meaningful, or to be together. Their behavior would have to be executed with distanced precision, and neither of them wanted to return to that time, not completely. For both of them everything that was good had only just begun.

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said in response as they entered the castle. It came out slightly more snappish than he had intended. It earned him a gruff punch on his arm. “Ow.”

Arthur turned up the stairs and into the empty corridor towards his chambers. “What do you know about this place, and about these Knights of Medhir?”

There were no people in sight, everyone was asleep, Merlin noticed. “Never heard of them, until today,” he acknowledged with some difficulty. It felt like he would step into this uselessly, and it bothered him.

Arthur suddenly pushed him into a servant’s side-corridor and dragged him into a dark place. He pressed his body against Merlin’s in a sudden fit of lust and buried his head in his neck.

Merlin gasped and held onto him desperately. They weren’t even in the prince’s chambers yet. He felt Arthur nose the sensitive skin right under his ear, and he deliriously reveled in the warmth of Arthur’s body pressing against him. Arthur kissed him and it was as if the sun had come out, his body feeling hot and willing. The alcohol had slowed his responses, and by the time he acknowledged what a terrible idea this was, Arthur was already pulling back.

“Go,” Arthur said. “You should research what you can tonight. Prepare. I don’t want to go into this blindly.”

“What?” Merlin asked with disappointment. He didn’t want that at all, he wanted Arthur. After all the teases they shared, he was desperately turned on. He held onto Arthur’s shirt and shook his head.

“I’ve got to make the right decisions, Merlin. You understand. You _know_ why I must ask you this,” he breathed into Merlin’s ear. Arthur pulled back and looked at him directly. They had a quiet understanding between them and when Arthur pulled back, Merlin let him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Merlin watched him leave the narrow servant’s corridor and turn towards his chambers. He took a deep sigh and settled his nerves. He would just have to wait. He shouldn’t even be demanding this. _Of course_ keeping Arthur safe was more important. He knew it.

He sighed and turned into the other direction, to head to the workshop, when he suddenly saw a pair of eyes looking at him in shock.

It was Gwen.

  
***

“Wait!” Merlin called out. He was running after Gwen, who had left the corridor and was rushing down the hall and back outside. She was heading for her home, he realized.

“Gwen, please!” His heart was in his throat. If she had seen anything, _anything_ at all, they were at a very serious risk. Arthur was at risk. And all at _his_ expense. He slipped down one of the steps, his legs wobbly from drinking. Guilt flooded through him with a sharp, painful sting.

Gwen looked over her shoulder at him and paused. “No,” she breathed.

He saw her pause and he looked up at her with pleading eyes. He couldn’t form any coherent words. He started getting up. “Wait, please.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know that I should,” she replied, and turned around again to continue running home.

She had seen them. She knew. And now he would burn for it. With his heart thudding in his chest, Merlin got himself up and ran after her. When she slipped into her home and closed the door behind her, Merlin fell against it. “Gwen, oh Gwen.” No answer came from the door. He shivered from the cold air around him. He leaned against the wood and fought the twist in his gut, which was trying to offer him the drinks back up. “I don’t know what to say.”

“So, my eyes did not deceive me?” Gwen asked softly from the other side of the door. She sounded hurt.

Merlin held his hand flat against the freezing door, his head pounding. “You won’t tell anyone? Please…”

“I can’t believe it,” came a muffled voice.

Merlin sighed. He had to think, if only he could think. His nerves were keeping him in a state of panic and couldn’t put two coherent thoughts together. He sighed. “If not for me, then for him?”

“How long, Merlin?”

“How long? Not long, not at all.” He bumped his forehead against the door.

“It can’t be real.” Gwen sounded hurt. “He is the _Prince_ , Merlin!”

“Can I come in?” he whispered. He held his breath.

After what seemed like an eternity the door clicked open and a beam of light lit Merlin’s face, and he felt the warmth seep out. He didn’t dare to come in until she had fully opened the door. Her face was set as thunder and he was reminded of his mother when he had stolen one of her pastries or if he had used his magic when he was young.

He stepped inside with his shoulders slumped and found that even the warmth from her home couldn’t penetrate his clothes. He shivered.

Gwen closed the door and walked to her seat by the hearth at the opposite end of the room. She sat down in her chair, which was covered by several furs and threw wood on the fire. Next to her chair stood a small table filled with with sewing utensils.

He sat down in front of the fire and buried his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Gwen. It’s not something I could ever tell anyone. Ever.”

“Then what are you sorry for? That you’ve been seen, or that you are telling me now?” Her voice was harsh.

“I’m sorry because I don’t want to keep things from you. You’re my friend. I mean, I hope—"

“Oh, I am. That’s exactly why I’m angry with you.”

He gaped at her, lost for words. How could he begin to put forward the ecstatic truth which their union brought? How could he make her understand how very real and meaningful it was. Sitting with her now made it feel like anything he would offer in explanation would make it sound like a trifle, something experimental, selfish. But it was the very opposite. In everything he did for Arthur, with Arthur, he was giving himself completely. How could he even begin to explain? He had no idea. So he stayed quiet.

“Yes, I’m angry, Merlin. I’ve been concerned about you. But I’m starting to put the pieces together.” She bit her lip and looked away. “Now I understand why you cried on my shoulder when you heard of Arthur’s engagement to Lady Vivian.” She pressed her lips together and shook her head at him. “You knew of my doubts! I will always be just a servant, but he came to my rescue. What was I supposed to think? Shame on you, how could you?”

“I never—someone enchanted him, Gwen. I was scared!”

“When I asked you the truth, you told me you were the last person to tell me why Arthur never warmed to me. Why I’d been left waiting.” She gripped her arm rests and came to sit on the edge of her seat. “I’m angry because you left me in my pain.”

To his disgrace he felt the warmth of the room seep into his clothing, while he knew he didn’t deserve it. He had never seen Gwen angry, not in any circumstance, and he shook like a leaf. He held his hands in his neck and frowned, blinking away the tears which burned in the corners of his eyes. His actions had hurt his friend, and he felt ashamed.

“Why couldn’t you tell me if I did something wrong?” Gwen demanded, pulling a blanket across her lap.

“You didn’t!”

“And all the while you were… what were you doing? Persuading him?”

“No, nothing like that!”

“And I’m angry, above all, that you’ve invited Lancelot. What did you think to orchestrate?” She sat forward and whispered, “You even danced with me. It’s appalling, Merlin.”

As the fire warmed his cheeks and pulled them taut, he turned away from it to face her, begging, “No, no, that’s not it. Gwen, Arthur went about everything all wrong. I did, too.” He touched the blanket that lay over her lap, holding on. “We need more men to patrol, we need more horses, and we need to know what’s going on in the East now that our messengers haven’t returned.”

She pulled the blanket out of his grip. “You can’t tell me that that’s all, Merlin.”

“It’s not all,” he said softly. “I knew Lancelot loved you. He still does. He left that day because of his assumption that he could never mean anything. Not if Arthur was your first choice. If you were his. I didn’t know, back then that—”

“What are you telling me, that _you’re_ his first choice? Merlin, that’s not…”

He looked up at her, pleading. “Not what? Not right? I couldn’t tell you how right it is.”

She regarded him for some time, frowning, not understanding. “You’re saying, you’re telling me that he chose you?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “That’s what he did.”

“And you’ve _accepted_ him? How…? I don’t understand.”

“Not just accepted, Gwen. I love him.” His voice got stuck and he swallowed, folding both hands over his heart. “This is real, not some light fancy.”

“But he’s a man!”

“Yes, that hadn’t escaped my notice,” he said, attempting to smile.

She frowned and picked up his hand. Relief flooded through him at her gesture. Gwen stared at him hard. “Are you sure he’s not forcing anything on you? Please, for once be completely honest with me.”

He huffed and looked his hand in Gwen’s. “Completely honest?” He sighed and contemplated, thinking how to offer her the truth. He squeezed her hand and looked at her directly. “I have found in him the reason of my existence.”

Gwen gaped at him and blinked. Color rose to her cheeks. “Well, not _that_ honest,” she said at last.

Merlin began to accept that he wasn’t going to lose her as a friend, and though she barely understood it, at least she acknowledged it. Or he thought she did, anyway. “I’m sorry if I’ve wronged you…”

“There is no ‘if’ in this case, Merlin. You have. If only that you treated me as fragile, which I’m not. You should be honest with me.” She let go of his hand and raised her eyebrows at him sternly.

Merlin stood up from the floor and pulled out a chair from her dining table to sit down, lightheaded and dizzy. “I can’t tell anyone, not even Gaius, not even my mother. No one can know, Gwen.”

Gwen studied the pattern of the blanket across her lap. “Uther would hang you—”

“The minute he finds out,” Merlin acknowledged and hung his head.

“What about Arthur? Why is he taking such a risk? Doesn’t he know it can never be?”

“Oh, he knows.” He picked a wooden button off the table and fiddled with it. “He fears his wedding day. He doesn’t want it to come. Ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” he said.

“I think I’m starting to understand now.” She folded her hands into her lap.

“Understand what?”

“More,” she answered vaguely. “When I saw you tonight, I thought… I thought you were the reason Arthur never truly warmed to me. I’m beginning to see that that’s not how it is…”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

For a while Gwen remained quiet, contemplating, while plucking some loose threads from the blanket. Merlin unwinded his nerves and palmed his eyes. It was late, very late, and he still needed to find what he could about Idirsholas. He placed the button back down. “You won’t tell anyone? Not even Arthur can learn that you know.”

“Of course, you can trust me.”

He ventured a small smile at her. “I know,” he said, and stood up, moving to the door. “What _were_ you doing in the castle at that hour?”

Gwen smiled back. “Returning the earrings Morgana lent me, she said they would bring luck.”

“And did they?” he asked with a goofy gin.

She tried not to smile too widely. “Actually, I believe they did.”

  
**\-----89 Morgana-----**

Morgana was outside well before dawn, having dressed herself in several simple robes she could tie without Gwen’s help, and she had thrown a thick dark green hooded cloak over her shoulders to conceal herself in the dark morning. The irony was not lost on her that she had lied to Merlin about having had a dream of meeting Morgause, and now it was actually happening. She felt anxious.

She carried a basket with her, to be able to announce that she was visiting the market in case anyone asked. As a few sleepy servants passed her in the hallway, they paid her no mind. The scent of warm bread from the kitchens mixed in with the foul-smelling odors of a recent butchering of some animal. She covered her nose and continued on, slipping away into the dark morning.

Once she had crossed the courtyard and entered the lower town through one of the gates, she looked around fretfully. The bracelet was still around her wrist, of course, its weight an uncompromising burden on her soul. She needed to ask Morgause about it. And she had something to tell her too; she could make fire now.

Last night, after everyone had gone to the tavern, Morgana had stayed in her room and practiced ‘ _forbærnan.’_ At first, she hadn’t known how to summon her magic, but taking off her bracelet had restored that fretful energy within her. Also, using a candle to focus on had worked very well. Merlin had been right about that. She had blown the candle out and tried the spell again, discovering that it worked better if the wick still had an ember of its own to ignite. On the third try, the flame had been so large and purposeful that it had instantly melted half the candle and threatened to spill onto the table.

After that she had spent an hour sitting on the cool window sill, looking over the sleeping town, before returning to her practice once her nerves were calmed. She needed to know how to do this, she _had to_ control it. If only to prevent giving herself away without intention, and if only to be able to defend herself with very clear, ruthless intentions.

Finally, she had burned Sir Owain’s note with her fire, holding the small parchment between two fingers, close to the hearth. The love letter had been a request to meet with her somewhere to talk. No doubt he would have gone to the tavern, expecting Morgana there. She thought about him. She had no feelings for him in particular, though he was a decent-looking man, and of noble birth from a good family. She had never given him any special attention and he certainly hadn’t done anything to impress her either; the note seemed to come out of nowhere. If anything, it was an insult to her, to assume she would succumb to some sweet words written on paper. If he was interested, he would need to show her what he was made of.

Just when she had finished her practice and put the bucket of water back to the side of the room, she was surprised to find Gwen at her door, telling her how the evening had been. She listened to the account regarding Lancelot with great interest. Following that, naturally, she had asked Gwen why she was turning in already. It had been just around midnight at that time, and that was far too early to retire from a party. Gwen had claimed that she did not want to raise any malicious talks about Lancelot, the man she coveted.

Morgana pondered. He was a savage, nothing more. She had only met the man when he had been discovered lying to the court, pretending to be a noble. And he had almost pulled it off, too. Despite his tricks, she couldn’t believe that the man was a fraud. He had, after all, rescued Gwen when she had been in great peril. And Morgana had never had the chance to thank him for that.

“I remember that day,” Morgana had said to Gwen. “It was wretched. I didn’t know if you would return to us alive.”

Gwen had looked down and nodded, placing the earrings into the box where they belonged.

“Do you feel,” Morgana had asked, “that you owe Lancelot yourself, in reward of his saving?”

She had looked up at Morgana with wide, innocent eyes. “Certainly not. I believe him, he spoke kind words to me before he even knew I would make it out alive.”

“Very well, then what keeps you from him now?”

“I do not want to become the subject of gossip,” Gwen had said with a shrug.

“Yes you do,” Morgana had replied in a pleased tone. “Do you think that others won’t talk about him? About a man of his temperament and looks?” She had gotten out of her seat and taken a hold of Gwen’s hands. “You most certainly want to become the gossip, dear. Let all the people know that they cannot have him.”

Morgana thought back to that moment with a smile. Gwen had accepted the gesture and had said that she would consider Morgana’s words with care before taking action. In anticipation of the following morning, Morgana had asked Gwen to let her sleep in. She had explained that she was uneasy again after several nights of poor sleep and bad dreams. Gwen had agreed without question.

If this early morning meeting went well, she would need to return to her bed before Gwen ever knew she was missing. Morgana thought with excitement that if that man decided to woo Gwen in the evenings to come, it would leave her with far more time to practice her magic. Her decision was already made; her magic was more important than friendship. And if Gwen would find a good man out of it, all the better.

She observed the early visitors at the market; there were people from various layers of society and a great variety of trades who came to get the things they needed. She walked along the stalls, not particularly interested in anything. When she passed through a small alley, someone suddenly came to stand in front of her. Though the woman’s hair was thick and dark, and she wore a thick winter scarf around the lower half of her face, Morgana recognized the woman’s eyes. It was Morgause.

“You look well,” Morgause said in a pleasant tone. She picked up Morgana’s hand without asking and lifted her cloak sleeve until she found the bracelet on her wrist. “Thanks to me.”

Morgana swallowed nervously. “I wear it all the time. It has stopped my bad dreams.” Now that she knew what her magic felt like, it prickled against her skin at Morgause’s touch.

As if Morgause experienced the same, she cocked her head. “But you do not seem happy. Why is that?” 

“I’m not certain what I owe you for helping me?” Morgana answered. “You send me notes without a means to reply. We’ve never actually spoken.”  
  
Morgause’s brown eyes were piercing, and her dark make-up was haunting. “Have you ever imagined a new world, Morgana? One where Uther was no more? And you didn’t have to pretend?”

“Pretend?” Morgana hesitated.

“That you are nothing but his ward. That you aren’t much, much more than that. I know that you are.”

“And what is that? What am I exactly?” Morgana asked with a sneer. The woman’s alluring voice intended to persuade, but Morgana wasn’t so easily moved. “And why do you claim this is about me, when it’s clearly about Uther?”  
  
“What has stopped you from setting yourself free?” Morgause evaded.

  
“I don't know. I believe he cared for me.” She remembered his fond looks, his praises. All of his kind security, all of the good things she had seen in him, before she had discovered her own magic. Before his madness became apparent. “But not anymore. He cares for no one.”  
  
Morgause smiled. “So, tell me, do you want Uther destroyed and his reign to end?”

Morgana stood her ground. “And then what? You fought his son Arthur in a combat to the death, but you spared his life. You would see him crowned king instead of his father? Or would you take the throne for yourself?”

It was a strange thing when Morgause smiled, and the smile did not reach her eyes. “I could put anyone on the throne, even you. But only if you are on my side. Just keep wearing the bracelet, and you will see.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “I can’t do anything, no matter who’s side I’m on.”

  
Morgause touched her arm, playing with her fingers over the silver jewel on her wrist. “You are wrong, Morgana. You underestimate your importance. The decisions you make now will change the shape of everything that is to come.”  
  
“I don’t have any skills, I can only just make fire,” she said, and the pride she had expected to feel was entirely absent. She wondered what the discovery of her ability meant in relation to Idirsholas, and whether Morgause’s appearance was somehow related to it. She recalled what the peasant had said about the rising smoke. But with an indescribable certainty, she knew it was not Idirsholas that burned, it was right here. It was this city, right where she was standing. “I don’t want you to burn the city down, if that’s what you’re planning. I won’t be a part of it.”

This surprised Morgause, and her eyes widened. “Is that what you’ve seen?”

“I don’t know what I’ve seen. If I wear this, I don’t see anything at all. What is it you want, Morgause? That I stop using my skills completely?”

A sigh. “No, Morgana. I want you to fully discover what you are capable of. This isn’t possible with Uther on the throne, nor Arthur.” Morgause cocked her head.

“That shows what you know. You come to me here, expecting me to take risks you’ve laid out for me. You don’t know me at all. And you haven’t given me any information about yourself either.”

“Fine.” Morgause contemplated her options. “What is it you wish to know?”

“You must think I was born yesterday.” She lowered her voice and hissed, “If you don’t tell me how you came to know about my magical abilities, I will call the guards to you this instant.”

“I had wanted to keep this for another day, when we would have more time…” Morgause turned away and looked down the alley they were in.

“You can want all you want. If you don’t understand my concern regarding the source of your knowledge, you must think very little of me indeed.”

Morgause was visibly shaken. “No, I have visited you before, many times throughout the years. I was waiting for your skills to awaken. I knew your abilities would emerge when you grew up, just not when exactly that would be. For me it was earlier, when I was ten.”

Shivers ran down her spine. If she had been followed by someone for all these years, then perhaps her magic wasn’t a secret at all. “And what should that mean to me? Who do you work for? Who else knows?”

“No one knows but me, dear.” Morgause smiled. “You might not remember me at all, but I saw you being born. It was right here at Camelot, where I lived with Lady Vivienne… my mother.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. “You lie! I don’t have a sister. And I was born at my home.” Her mother had never mentioned any other child.

“No, you were not. Gorlois was at war when mother carried you. The war lasted for several years. You were born right here.” Morgause tilted her head. “You have no idea how mother and the Queen doted over you.”

“You knew Ygraine?”

“Very little. When I was six, I was taken out of Camelot when the Great Purge began. The city was in chaos. I was hidden and presumed dead. Mother fled back to her homestead, to welcome the body of her husband. Gorlois was not my father. But by our mother’s line, Morgana, we share her magic.”

“Her magic…? How am I to believe these words? There isn’t anyone alive who could confirm it.”

“I could show you,” Morgause offered. “Do you want to see mother again?”

“No, Morgause. I don’t. You’re asking me to lose her twice. I’m not interested.”

This certainly didn’t please Morgause, and her face turned sour. “For once and for all, Morgana, whose side are you on? Are you with Uther, or are you with me? Are you prepared to help me bring about his downfall?”  
  
“I’m never with Uther. You can be assured of that. I don’t know if you really are my sister… How can I be sure I am safe?”

“Just wear your bracelet. And keep your eyes open. You will see, I promise you.”

Morgana sighed. She needed to hold onto this piece of hope. It fed through her like the first bite of a juicy fruit after a week of fasting. “Will you teach me, one day? All that you can do?”

“Yes, of course. Everything. And I will tell you about mother. I need to go, Morgana. There’s something headed this way to make your dreams come true.”

“My dreams are nightmares, Morgause. I hope for your sake that you are wrong.”

  
**\-----90 Arthur-----**

Merlin opened the curtains to let the light in, and Arthur promptly turned away from it to continue snoozing. For some time, Merlin remained quiet. He cleaned up the prince’s chambers and placed items for their upcoming journey onto the dining table. He was seated at the table, cleaning several daggers, when at last Arthur sat up in bed and looked at him.

Merlin hadn’t come to kiss him yet, which was unusual. His breakfast was waiting for him at the corner of the table, with the cover still over it. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face. “Is something the matter?” When Merlin looked up from his cleaning work, Arthur saw the worry in his eyes.

“No, I just thought you needed a bit more sleep before we ride out. The knights are up. They’ve started packing now.” Merlin stood up and brought Arthur his robe and towels, then returned to his cleaning.

“Right, and there’s nothing more?” Arthur flung the robe away, stalked towards the tub naked, entered with an elated sigh, and started washing himself thoroughly. They would be riding for several days and he dreaded what he would smell like by the end of it. “Have you done what I asked?”

“Yes,” Merlin said. His voice was soft, almost inaudible. “I found only a handful of references in some possibly unreliable old books, and I asked Gaius what he knew over breakfast this morning.”

Arthur got up and dried himself off quickly. He didn’t miss the glances Merlin shot him, but there wasn’t time to go into that. “What have you found out?”

“The Knights of Medhir were sealed into Idirsholas many ages ago. Each of them was originally a warrior, highly skilled in swordsmanship.” Merlin helped him into his brown leather breeches and offered him socks.

“What happened?”

“They were consumed by a dark magic to be bound to Idirsholas. According to Gaius, the legend explains that they can only be summoned by a powerful sorcerer in an ancient ritual called ‘Black Burning’ or ‘Burning Darkness.’ It was hard to translate.”

“Summoned?”

Merlin offered him a fine woolen undershirt, and helped him into it without looking at him. “Yes, they come back to life and they are sent on an inescapable task or assignment. They can only be summoned by a sorcerer.” Merlin looked miserable.

“Merlin?” Arthur plucked Merlin’s hands off his sides, where he was tugging the undershirt down. “Look at me,” he said, and when Merlin did, he saw the defiant Merlin who crossed him and told him off, the one who could handle problems. “From one man-eating beast to another”—he grinned when Merlin burst into a chuckle—“can you tell me what’s rattled you?”

“This journey... it’s going to be dangerous, Arthur.”

He put his arms around Merlin’s waist and pulled him against him. “I know. We’ll have the knights with us. They can protect us while you hide behind a tree.” He kissed Merlin’s inevitable grin.

“Mmf!” Merlin pulled back. “The door’s not locked.”

Arthur let go with a sigh. “That was just for good luck. Now tell me, how are they defeated?”

“They’re not.”

“Not what?”

Merlin sighed deeply and offered Arthur his belt. “They have risen twice before and did not stop until they had completed their charge. No one has ever defeated them. Not a single one.”

Arthur frowned as he recognized Merlin’s agitation. “What did Gaius say about that?”

“That unless we know what the Knights of Medhir are after, there’s very little we can do to stop them. I fear for the knights of Camelot, and for you. Gaius said that if we cannot stop them, we must run.”

Arthur nodded as Merlin spoke, and started to formulate plans. “What about magic?”

“There’s no spell, or potion, or anything against them in the books, I looked. They can only move at night, which leaves us the days to figure out what to do,” Merlin said, looking down.

“Right,” Arthur said and offered Merlin a smile. “I will speak with the men after I have breakfast. I’ll make certain we have shields and shorts words, spears and crossbows. We’ll fight them defensively.”

“But, Arthur—"

There was a knock on the door. The door stayed closed. Merlin moved towards the dining table and continued packing, shaking his head.

“Enter?” Arthur called out, pulling his undershirt fully down.

Morgana walked into the room looking simply dressed in a grey dress, but fully awake. “Oh good, you’re up,” she said. “I was beginning to fear that you had abandoned this quest.” Behind her Gwen walked in, carrying a large wicker basket full of clothes. She gave him a small bow and nodded at Merlin.

“Why would I abandon it?” Arthur said sharply.

“It’s nearly time for lunch, Arthur. I know that in two days it will be the shortest day of the year, but we expected you to be gone already.”

He stared at Morgana. She had a way of piercing through to the core. “The shortest day of the year. That means the nights are longest.” From the dining table, Merlin glanced at him meaningfully and he looked miserable. Gwen put the wicker basket on the table beside all the other stuff.

“That stands to reason.” Morgana laughed at him. “Just make sure you don’t forget water.”

“Merlin’s packing all of that,” he said dismissively.

“That’s not what I mean. Stay close to water, for your men and for your horses. It will be good for you.” She gave him a look which indicated that she didn’t expect him to be able to succeed at all. He felt annoyed at once and glared at her.

“I’ll decide what’s good for me,” he snapped.

“Just come back in one piece,” Morgana said, placing several notes onto the dining table, and left, succumbing to his hostility. He refrained from retorting. Everything she said sounded like a warning, like he needed to be on edge. It was as if she knew something he didn’t, and it irked him.

Gwen came to stand in front of him with a black cloth from the basket and bowed. “I’ve finished your requests, sire.”

“Great! We’ll have to see if they fit,” Arthur said with a grin.

“Naturally,” Gwen agreed and proudly held out the black velvet doublet, newly made to fit Arthur. He held out his arms and Gwen helped him into it carefully.

“There are no pins in this anymore, right?” Arthur asked.

“Of course not,” Gwen assured him.

“You’ve got some letters, sire,” Merlin announced, picking up the notes Morgana left.

When the doublet was over his shoulders, Gwen helped him with the buttons and the cuffs on his sleeves, checking that everything looked correct and fit well. She brushed over the sleeves, to get rid of any loose strings.

“Who are they from?”

“Your Uncle Agravaine, and… from King Olaf, I think.”

“Pack them up with the rest,” Arthur said dismissively.

Gwen instructed Arthur to lift and flex his arms. “There’s your mended jacket in there too, Merlin,” she said with a strange tone in her voice. Arthur knew what was coming and grinned.

“Oh, thanks,” Merlin said and went to the wicker basket to retrieve it.

“Thank you, Gwen,” Arthur said. “Not a bit too loose around the waist?”

“No, sire. Then you can grow into that too,” she said and smiled.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m jesting, this is easier when you are seated. This is a ceremonial vest, is it not?”

Arthur smiled and nodded at her. “I think this is perfect.”

Merlin snorted. “Well this one’s not.” He held up the red doublet which had been placed at the bottom of the wicker basket. “It’s way too small.”

Arthur folded his arms behind his back and offered Merlin a lopsided smile in anticipation. “That’s because it’s not _for_ me.”

Merlin lowered the doublet and looked between Arthur and Gwen as realization dawned. “What?” The grin faded from his face and he was suddenly shy. “No, I can’t take this. I don’t have the coin for it.” His ears were turning red. He was looking uncomfortable and sentimental. That was certainly not how Arthur had planned it.

“Save it. Gwen made this for you. It’s already done.” Arthur glanced at Gwen briefly, who seemed quite worried.

Merlin looked down. “For me?”

“Look, it’s nothing special,” Arthur said, feeling agitated. He hadn’t expected such an emotional response. “Sir Caridoc pointed out to me that you don’t look the part of my servant at important events, alright?” He raised his arms to show that it explained everything.

Merlin bit his lip and restored his expression. “I suppose it comes with a fancy hat?” he attempted with a chuckle.

 _That’s better_ , Arthur thought. “I can have one made, if you don’t watch it.” He had to play his part in this too.

Gwen approached Merlin cautiously. “I’ll need you to try it on, Merlin. To see if it fits.”

“You didn’t even take my measurements,” Merlin complained.

“I had your jacket to work with. Go on,” Gwen said in a delicate voice, as if trying to convince a child to meet a new person.

With some reluctance, Merlin shrugged out of his old suede jacket and placed it over the one Gwen fixed. He tried to push his arms into the sleeves, but the doublet was quite heavy and slipped away.

“Do you need someone to _dress_ you, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur teased, but Gwen anticipated it and reached out to help him into it. As she leaned behind Merlin to lift the doublet for him, Merlin shot him a warning glance, with the corner of his lip curled up.

Arthur felt a warmth growing inside of him, watching Merlin get folded into the fine cloth, watching Gwen expertly tie the laces and fix his sleeves. And when the result was there, he couldn’t stop looking at Merlin, the way his neck scarf still protruded from the doublet, the way the cloth clung to his form.

“Right,” Gwen said, “I think this will do well. Let me know if you have any thoughts about it, won’t you?”

“Gwen,” Merlin said, and took her hand. “Thank you.”

“Alright, Merlin, no need to grovel. Gwen, your skills really are the best in the kingdom, so thank you, but we’ve got to get ready.”

“Yes, sire. Shall I take the laundry?”

Once she was gone, Merlin stood beside the table, looking at the fabric of his doublet. Arthur mused that Merlin had probably never worn anything this fancy. Apart from the ceremonial servant’s robes, of course. He approached Merlin and took hold of his shoulder, turning him around to face him. He eyed him up and down until he found that Merlin was glaring at him.

“You’ve got a problem with this?” Arthur asked, fixing his collar.

“You’ll give us away if you go on,” he said, pushing Arthur’s hands away and starting to undo the laces.

“Is that the thanks I get?” he scoffed. He felt exasperated.

“Arthur, it’s great, but… you can’t parade me around.” Merlin shook his head. “I have to remain invisible.”

“This is just for special occasions, alright?” He put his hands on his hips and turned away, examining the prepared clothes and materials for their journey, which were laid out on the table. There were knives and tools and, inconspicuously, his jar of muscle salve. “Just forget it.” He was put out that his gift had gotten such a cool reception. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was on a rampage, throwing everything on the table at Merlin to get him to leave.

There was a click and when he glanced sideways, he saw that Merlin had his arm outstretched towards the door to his chambers. For whatever reason it was now locked, from afar. Merlin wasn’t slouching for once, but stood tall. Before Arthur could respond, Merlin had him pushed against the edge of the table. Arthur stared in surprise and saw a flash of gold, boldly passing through Merlin’s eyes. Shortly afterwards he noticed a wave of air brush against his skin. Without a pause, Merlin pressed his hips against him deliciously. In a flash of unbridled lust, Arthur felt his body start to respond. “Merlin, what—?”

Merlin held a finger against his lips and cooed, “Thank you.” The red of his new doublet accentuated his flushed cheeks as he leaned in to hover his mouth over Arthur’s. “Everything you do affects me, Arthur. You know this.”

The words were spoken directly against his mouth and Arthur felt his head swim, his need for Merlin building up fast, unexpected, the unease slipping away from him. “We can’t, we’ve got to pack… You would tell me that yourself.”

“I can pack in seconds,” Merlin said, and there was that edge to his voice again. He kissed Arthur fully, devouring his lips and his mouth while his fingers began to hastily undo buttons down the black velvet doublet. Arthur wrapped his arms around him and kissed him feverishly, over and over again, until he couldn’t think anymore. He felt his erection swelling fast with Merlin pressed up against him.

When at last he gasped for air and Merlin continued kissing the line of his jaw he muttered, “And yet, you’ve always manage to show up late at the start of any journey.” He pushed him forward to move away from the table but found himself held there by more force than he expected.

“I had to make a good impression,” Merlin muttered against his Adam’s apple.

Arthur snorted. “ _That_ was a good impression?” He ran a hand through Merlin’s dark, unruly hair. Merlin pushed the black velvet doublet off his arms and started tugging at his undershirt.

“That’s what was needed, what _you_ needed,” Merlin whispered, pulling the undershirt up.

Arthur wanted to complain, but seeing Merlin worked up and looking so fine in his new doublet, his black hair standing off against the red of the fabric, the words stopped in his throat. He was breathing hard, incapable of doing much else. He lifted his arms and the shirt was gone in seconds. “Merlin, you don’t have to thank me like this…”

Long fingers were already undoing the laces to his breeches. “You think this is me thanking you?” His leather breeches were pulled down again and Arthur felt fingers around his cock. All his earlier complaints seemed far away. “I want this, Arthur. You kept delaying.”

His protest faded when Merlin knelt down in front of him, holding onto his cock and gently stroked it. “You’re always judging me,” Arthur complained.

Merlin licked the tip of his cock around the head with his tongue before answering, “You always need me to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Arthur sighed, while his fingers roamed through Merlin’s hair. He was panting and marveled at the softness of Merlin’s wet mouth and lips. They hadn’t had any time in the past few days and the build-up was overwhelming; when Merlin took him into his mouth he groaned loudly. For several minutes, Merlin teased him relentlessly, until he was rock hard and all thoughts of arriving on time were forgotten.

Merlin stood up and kissed him on his lips again. Arthur enjoyed the rather perverted way he was entirely naked, apart from his socks, while Merlin stood in front of him fully dressed. He thought about undressing him, but decided that he liked the doublet on him enough to keep it like it was. Merlin’s hands were everywhere on his body, grabbing over his chest, up and down his sides, squeezing his thighs. He’d never seen Merlin in such a feverish passion before. He pulled back from the kisses and stared at him.

Through his lashes, Merlin regarded him. His mouth hung open and his beautiful lips were swollen and wet. “I would die for you,” he said.

Arthur pulled Merlin’s body against him, feeling the rough fabrics of his clothes against his skin, Merlin’s erection digging into his hip. He cupped Merlin’s cheek, wondering what had sparked this seriousness in him. “You can’t,” he said as if that was final. He ran a thumb over his cheek and it was as if Merlin unraveled before him.

“No,” Merlin said simply and looked him straight in the eyes. He wore a strange, worried look and Arthur didn’t understand what he saw there.

“You can’t, because…” His throat went dry and when Merlin attempted to move away, Arthur kept him there with a firm hand. Merlin said he was affected by everything, but so was he. The depth of his conviction surprised him, and he knew with a certainty that he would never want to go back to a time before what they had. “Because I love you, Merlin.”

When he was certain that Merlin wouldn’t move away anymore he let go. Merlin’s blue eyes were staring at him with such a longing; with a warmth that was almost too much for him to look at. Then with both hands Merlin held his face and kissed him, closed-lipped, bruising, and hard. It was a different sort of kiss from before, intended to convey his love for him. It was everything he needed, and more, overpowering him in a way he never thought he could experience.

Before he knew it he was flipped back onto the dining table, lying on top of his discarded doublet, between the items prepared for their journey. Merlin covered his body with his own, kissing the skin down his neck, past his collarbone and over his chest. He pushed between Arthur’s legs to bring their hips together and rocked against him. One of Merlin’s hands groped his pecs. Arthur felt a strange liberation after his confession and lay a hand over Merlin’s, over his heart as if to keep it there.

“God, Arthur, you are everything to me. And will be, forever.” His voice sounded constricted. Two chairs drew closer as if by themselves and Arthur put his feet on their arm rests, lifting his knees up. Arthur lay back against the table and grasped the hand he was holding, twining his fingers through Merlin’s.

After showering his abdomen with kisses, Merlin lowered his head, and licked down the length shaft and all the way down to his balls. He bit his lip and squirmed, determined not to make noise as Merlin took one of his balls into his mouth and then the other, and stroked them wetly with his tongue. It was almost ticklish, but also divine. Arthur let go of his hand and panted. Then Merlin licked lower, and across his hole, his tongue darting quickly across it. Arthur fought the urge to get away from that. “What are you…”

“Let me,” Merlin said, “please.” He felt Merlin’s tongue again, licking his hole sometimes with a flick, sometimes with pressure. His head swam with reasons why this was wrong and reasons why this was oh so right. Merlin took pleasure in showing him new things, but this, this wasn’t just some new thing, this was bliss and irreverence at once. The tongue left at last and Arthur lay panting on the table, too torn to respond. Without having seen or heard where Merlin had gotten it, he felt a slick finger press down below and he anticipated its course without resistance.

He looked up at Merlin, at the line of his shoulders as he leaned over him, at the shape of his brow, and the shadows across his cheekbones as Merlin began sucking him off. There was something very different about him today which he couldn’t place. The last time they’d had any time together, Merlin had submitted himself to Arthur entirely, pliant and free for Arthur to do with as he pleased. This time there was an urgency to everything he did. His thoughts fled when Merlin took him deeply into his throat and more fingers started pushing him open. He groaned and arched his back, pushing up against Merlin’s mouth.

While his mouth and tongue worked him up to a state of merciless need, his fingers didn’t touch that part inside of him. They moved in and out of him steadily but didn’t curl. He felt his cock building up the pressure fast, too fast, and reached out to steady Merlin with a hand on his shoulder. Merlin stopped and looked up at him, Arthur’s cock still in his mouth.

“Wait.” He sat upright.

Merlin let him go, stepping back, pulling his hands back to himself. “Arthur…” He panted and wiped the saliva off his chin.

“I know what you want,” he said and held onto the fabric of the red doublet. A hand reached into Merlin’s hair and he pulled him close so their foreheads touched.

“Arthur, please. I need you.”

There it was, Merlin’s desperate urgency again. Arthur stroked the hairs at the back of Merlin’s nape and looked at him, but he had his eyes shut. He wanted to see his eyes, to make sure that he knew him, that it would be good. “Merlin,” he began. Merlin opened his eyes and and searched his. “It’s alright,” Arthur answered and hoped that he answered more than one question.

Merlin gasped and huffed when Arthur undid his laces for him and pulled his breeches down just enough to free his cock. He slowly stroked Merlin’s length, felt him languidly pump into his hand and heard him making small noises of pleasure. Any more of this teasing, he thought, and they would ruin Merlin’s new doublet entirely.

“You look so good in that,” Arthur said hoarsely.

Merlin pushed Arthur back down on the table, and ravished him with eyes, wild with lust. He used some more slave from the jar on the table beside them to slick up his cock. Arthur leaned back on his elbows and frowned. He wasn’t certain at all about this, a small voice at the back of his mind knew that they would be late, and on top of that, he’d never had anyone do this to him, nor had he expected to ever let it happen.

But this was Merlin. Merlin who gave anything to him, who sacrificed any freedom he might have wanted in life to fulfill his destiny. This was Merlin who would die for him. Merlin who loved him. He had no doubts of that whatsoever. Not anymore.

Merlin positioned himself and guided his cock to Arthur’s hole, rubbing the head around the slickened entrance before pushing into him. Arthur sucked in a breath steeled himself. One of Merlin’s hands tugged at his hip, the other leaned on the table. The way Merlin was looking down at what he was doing, riled him up. That’s what he did too when he took Merlin.

He felt the push become more than what the fingers had done. It hurt, but not enough to stop. He made a small noise of surprise when he knew for certain that Merlin’s cockhead was entirely in. _The worst part must be over_ , he thought. Not too bad compared to the fingers. It wasn’t until Merlin pushed forward and into him that he fully understood the difference. He put a hand on his own cock to slowly stroke himself, anticipating what would come.

“Are you okay?” Merlin asked in a whisper.

Merlin was in deep, much deeper than he thought he could handle. “Nngh, yes.” He leaned his head down against the table and let out a long sigh. He was made of sturdier stuff than this.

At hearing his moan, Merlin pulled back out of him and pushed in once more. The thrust tugged at his insides and Arthur flexed, moving on the table to find himself again; to steady against the next push which came quicker than he anticipated. Merlin was absorbed in fierce concentration, still grabbing his hip and torturously keeping his rhythm slow.

Arthur stroked himself tightly and closed his eyes until he felt something wet at the tip of his cock. He looked down to see Merlin doubling over and licking the tip of it, while moving inside of him. It was at once all too much for Arthur. He held his length upright, feeding Merlin the tip of his cock completely, and felt Merlin speed up in response. There was no more pain, just the sensation of being thrust into, thoroughly used. Merlin sucked on his tip, teasing the ridge with the soft inside of his lips. The new angle made Merlin’s cock forcefully push inside of him, rubbing just at the right spot and Arthur was lost, pleasure building up fast.

Merlin’s hips slapped against his and made delicious wet noises. When Merlin started groaning while he sucked him off, the sensation pushed Arthur far beyond any point he had reached so far, blinded by the intense pleasure, and he came, groaning loudly, into Merlin’s mouth, at some point having gripped a handful of Merlin’s hair. He felt Merlin thrusting into him roughly enough to shake the items on top of the table, while made small ‘uh, uh, uh’ noises. After several deep and forceful thrusts, Merlin stilled and gripped his hip hard.

The next few moments were a blur to Arthur. Merlin let go of his hip, slipped out of him, and helped him ease his legs down. The muscles in his legs felt stretched too far and his stomach ached for breakfast. He sat upright again on the table’s edge and saw Merlin’s flustered, slightly confused expression, as if he, too, wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Arthur realized with astonishment that Merlin’s doublet had not been marked.

Merlin looked over him and whispered, “Keep still.” In the moments that followed he felt strangely refreshed before he got up off the table to find himself cleaned. The table around him was entirely emptied apart from a pile of his armor, and four large, packed bags were situated next to the door, ready to go. Merlin stood in the same place, with a rosy color on his cheeks.

Although he should be used to it by now, he still eyed the bags suspiciously. If Merlin could have done that any time, then he really had been late on purpose. He flexed his legs a little where the muscles and tendons felt stretched more than they usually suffered. His backside was sore, but not terribly. Merlin was beside him immediately to help him get dressed again.

Arthur held his hand out when Merlin offered him his brown shirt and stopped his movement. “Merlin, look at me,” he said. “What’s on your mind? Did you think I wouldn’t want to kiss you, afterwards?” He moved forward to fold his arms around Merlin’s sides and raised his eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“No,” Merlin said and looked down shyly. “I’m just…”

“An idiot?” He kissed Merlin’s protest away. “You don’t get to tell me all these things, and you certainly don’t get to listen to my confession of love, and then turn away like that. I need you and your magic on this journey.”

Arthur undid the laces of his doublet and regarded him sternly. He turned Merlin around by pushing at his shoulders and shrugged him out of the heavy fabric. Merlin lifted his elbows and freed himself. The doublet was flung across the table.

Merlin rolled his shoulder, seemingly happy to have the heavy cloth lifted from him. “Whatever happens out there,” he said evasively, “I will protect you.”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” he replied gently. “Everything is going to be alright.”

  
**\-----91 Merlin-----**

Merlin walked into the workshop to say goodbye to his master. Their breakfast had been cool and pragmatic and much of the usual warmth was lacking. Clearly, Merlin had overstepped some boundary with Gaius. It felt wrong to leave like this, especially in light of the danger of their mission. The old physician was scraping bone marrow out of what looked like a large femur.

He closed the door quickly behind him, to keep the warmth in, and approached his master’s work bench.

“Shouldn’t you be saddling the horses, Merlin?” Gaius chided him coolly.

“Yes. But I wanted to say goodbye first.” He looked down and slumped his shoulders. Hearing his master’s disinterested voice bothered him. “Do you know if any letter from my mother has arrived?”

“No letter has come. What has Prince Arthur said about the Knights of Medhir?”

Merlin frowned. “He is confident we can find something to defeat them. I’m not so sure this time.”

“They are formidable. You must remember what I told you.”

“Of course,” he said and seated himself opposite Gaius. “Lady Morgana stopped by this morning. She warned us that the shortest day of the year is coming.”

“Did you tell her about the Knights of Medhir, Merlin?”

“I didn’t, but it’s clear that she has had visions,” he said, fidgeting.

Gaius put his scraping tool down and gave him his full attention. “That is not all she has told you, is it?”

“Her power is increasing,” Merlin said. “I’m not certain if it’s because of the bracelet or in spite of it.” He bit back his explanation of where Morgana said that it helped her. He didn’t want his master knowing how much he was assisting her. He thought back to teaching her ‘ _forbaernan_ ’ and hoped that he had done the right thing. “Yes, there are other things.”

“She tells you these things specifically?”

Merlin looked at Gaius directly. “She has no one else who will hear them. She warned me against Halig before she even knew who the man was. And she has dreamed of a city under attack. Fire raining down from above.”

“From above?”  
 

“I know,” he said. He pondered whether he should tell his master about everything else. He owed Gaius. After all, the man had ensured that Halig wore the ring that night. It was the very reason that Merlin was alive and well. “That’s not all. She received a note from Morgause. Gwen told me that she found it. It is certain that Morgause knows about her magic.”

“And Morgause is not to be trusted,” Gaius concluded. “If Morgana turns to her, then the Great Dragon’s words will become truth. Morgana will betray us.”

“How can you know that for certain? When it is us that are driving her out by not accepting who she is. Gaius, she doesn’t know about me but she _does_ know about you. Even if you don’t practice magic anymore, isn’t it only right that you should make her feel safe?”

Gaius frowned. “I have kept her safe, Merlin.”

Merlin shook his head. Asleep wasn’t the same thing. But he didn’t want to go into that again, lest he would have another falling out.

“You have told me that the future is mine to shape. If you want me to believe these words, doesn’t it make sense to apply them to Morgana as well?”

Gaius folded his arms over his chest and regarded Merlin sharply. “Do you truly believe in her goodness?”

“I believe that she has an emptiness that needs to be filled. And I would rather that she is taught with warmth rather than be received elsewhere with a cause for revenge.” When Gaius didn't reply, he continued, “Think about it this way, if at any point my magic is revealed and through it your tutelage becomes common knowledge, how must she feel?”

“I know a thing or two about Morgana. Her spirit is vengeful, Merlin.”

“She is clever and will distinguish insufficiency from outright wronging. It may not be today, and it may not be soon, but we will see her develop further. That is a fact.”

The old physician sighed and unfolded his arms. He leaned forward over the workbench and said, “Of your goodness, Merlin, I have no doubts at all.”

  
**\-----92 Morgana-----**

Morgana had asked Uther to join her for lunch, simply because she did not want the king to impress any ridiculous words upon the departing knights. As the men were riding out of the citadel Morgana and Uther regarded them from the high balcony before returning inside. She was about to make her decision. It hadn’t left her mind for days on end. Would she side with Morgause, would she side with Camelot and Gwen, or would she choose what was best for herself? If there was any allegiance possible between these three choices, which ones would be most important to her? Today, she had made her choice.

She had to eat with this man, dine with her enemy and find out if she could kill him—or allow Morgause to kill him. Was she ready to do this?

Not yet, she realized. Now that Morgause had told her that she had been born here at Camelot, that her mother, Vivienne, had stayed here and that her parents never told her she had a _sister_ , she had more questions. Even if her mother had never told her—she barely remembered her mother—she at least assumed that Gorlois, her father, would have told her.

She sat down in the chair opposite Uther at the long dining table and smiled at Gwen who presented their lunch. Morgana was wearing her bracelet on top of her grey dress, and it made her feel powerful that she was doing this in the king’s presence. Morgause’s words of comfort clearly had an effect on her.

“How’s your lunch?” Morgana asked conversationally. She had decided to start small and see what Uther threw back at her. She smiled at him.

Uther regarded her with a relaxed smile and he nodded. “Excellent, as usual. How are your teachings with Geoffrey coming along?”

“Oh, very interesting. I have found some information about the Sarmatians.” She took a bite and stretched the silence purposefully. Her quail with roasted and spiced vegetables and some foreign herbs was a strange combination and she decided that she didn’t like it.

“And what did you learn? What sort of people are they?”

She shrugged. “They are a people from far away, far to the East beyond the Roman lands. They hold no lands of their own, and there aren’t many of them at all. By all standards they should be a weak people.” It did not take long for Uther to take the bait.

“Is this the moment you tell me that they have magic?” Uther asked sharply.

Morgana swallowed down the bite in her mouth and felt sick from it. She pursed her lips momentarily and brought a napkin up in front of her mouth. “No, none of the sources mentioned this. I should think if they did, they would have taken land and made a kingdom with rules of their own. Instead they use all their practice for sword fighting. Some claim that their skills are better than most knights.”

“Utter nonsense,” Uther declared.

“Perhaps we should put it to the test,” she suggested.

“I will not bring these savages here to fight. The tournament grounds are not intended for their kind.”

She was pleased. As long as he held that distinction, he could never see their worth. They were of a small consequence to him now. She hoped that her information would keep all his arrows off the Sarmatian people for now. The information she had received from Gwen and the other servants was promising enough.

A plan was formulating in her head already. “You’re right,” she acknowledged and lifted her glass to him. “We cannot invite the savages to the tournament grounds. But have you thought about how to disarm them?”

“Disarm, how do you mean?” Uther regarded her sharply, chewing on a piece of quail.

“Well, they are camping close to the capital. Or they will be in some days time, with all their wives and children. Naturally we don’t want them too close, or the local people will begin to complain. I’m sure you’ve thought of that already.” She took a sip from her drink and when Uther didn’t ask any further questions she continued, “These are a people who need to be employed. They can be used. Not with something we particularly trust, nothing secret, but they can fight for us. Why don’t we pay them to take up station in the East.”

“I’m not about to hand them money.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about money. They would take up to farm the lands there.”

“What are you on about, Morgana?”

“Whether you like it or not, Cenred is on the move. And we know that Bayard is still not our friend. Several villages have already been sacked. Their crops were never harvested. What will happen if Cenred pushes into our borders? He will have food aplenty for all his forces.”

“You’re thinking to clear the lands by sending this clan there?”

She shrugged and curled a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure. If you send them all, you won’t know what’s going on. A few of them would have to travel back and forth. Their presence would protect travelers on the roads for trade.”

This was the choice she had made. Morgause’s offer was not good enough and she would not repay her with her submission. She was not submissive or weak, and she would not be used. This, at least, would be good for Camelot, and it would be good for Gwen. And it would be perfect for her. The area which would be protected by the Sarmatians was riddled with small Druid clans residing in the wild woodlands, such as Aglain’s clan, or what was left of it by now. It held an interest for her.

“There might be some sense in that,” Uther said. “I will take it up at the council meeting.”

She lifted her eyebrows and stared at him unwavering. She was waiting for him to invite her back. He stared back unmoving and gave her a crow-eyed smile. The invite did not come.

She thought about asking him about Morgause and what he knew about her, but decided against it. She most certainly did not want him to think about her at all. In fact, the less he heard about her, the better. Then she could plan her attack independently, but not at Morgana’s expense.

It frightened her to think that Morgause might achieve what so many others had tried. Morgause had come into her powers at a far younger age than her, and she had had many years to practice and exercise her skills. It left Morgana feeling envious and small.

If she failed, then Morgana would perhaps lose her half-sister. A sister! It was absurd. She had wanted siblings when she was little, but now it meant very little to her. It was simply a word. If Morgause had really been a sister to her, she would have come sooner and taken her away from this horrid place.

Besides, what if Morgause had more plans for Camelot than she had let on? What if she wanted to ruin it entirely. What if she planned to kill Arthur as well? Though she did not like him much, Arthur would be much better than his father. And Morgana did not want to see Camelot fall. She had too many questions and Morgause had not given her enough information to go on.

“I should get back to my history lesson,” she said. “There’s a fascinating part about a famous abbey. It teaches women to be at peace with themselves and with the faith, even against their will apparently.” She wondered how Uther would respond to that. Unfortunately at that moment Holden walked in with an urgent letter, and Uther dismissed her at once.

  
**\-----93 Arthur-----**

After many hours of riding, Arthur and the knights set up camp next to a stony ridge which kept them away from most of the winds. The storm had been at their backs all day long, and it had meant good progress on their journey, better than expected. But by now, the horses were tired and cold. The winter landscape had offered them a variety of gray hazy landscapes and hard-to-read mossy signposts.

This area would serve them well as there was a river nearby to water the horses. But something nagged at the back of his mind, something he remembered Morgana saying. Water was good. He looked up to see what the weather would bring. As the skies were clear it would likely be a cool night.

Arthur dismounted Thorunn with a painful face and murmured to Merlin, “Remind me never to gift you anything again.”

Merlin suppressed a grin and replied softly, “That’s what I told you all along.” He was already brushing down Royse.

Arthur bumped past his shoulder roughly to make his point, and called out to the other knights. “We won’t have much time, so Leon, set up the perimeter, Bedivere, if you can help with the tents, Owain get our rations, Merlin gather some wood for a fire.”

“It’s been raining, sire,” Merlin complained.

“I hadn’t _noticed_. Now do your best before we use your coat for kindle!”

Sir Caridoc shook his head as he watched Merlin walk into the woods and turned to Sir Kay to help him take his shield off his back. “I still don’t understand why we’re carrying these heavy things. We should be light and mobile, this isn’t a tourney.”

“The legend of Idirsholas, whether it’s true or not, spoke of undefeated warriors,” Arthur said. “We could be walking into a trap.”

“I never knew you to be so scared, sire,” Caridoc said, rolling his shoulder.

“I never knew you were an expert on the Knights of Medhir, perhaps this is the perfect moment for you to tell us what you know,” Arthur offered Caridoc with a smile.

Caridoc shrugged and took off his gloves. “If it’s come to life, then it must die. All fire can be extinguished. That’s all I care about.”

From atop the ridge, a large crow cawed in their general direction. Arthur assumed it was after scraps and ignored it.

“Right, and I agree with that. However, this is magic we’re dealing with. I don’t even know if they’re really alive.”

Merlin returned with a small arm full of at least half dry firewood and set to work building a fire, which took quite some time. The knights were becoming agitated and hungry, and Kay decided to eat his ration raw. At last the fire caught and everyone sat down to eat.

“It’s going to clear up tonight, so it’s going to be cold. Kay, you take first watch. Everyone else stay in your tents and keep the cold out as much as you can. We will ride out before dawn. I want to reach it by midday tomorrow. We have about six hours of riding left.”

“Yes, sire,” Kay said, and picked up his scabbard, placing it next to his feet.

Arthur spent some more time at the campfire and thought about what they would be facing. He knew nothing about these knights, not even what they looked like or if they were already on the move—and if so, in which direction. He was pretty certain they could ride, but obviously if they only rode at night, then regular horses would be useless. So either they were getting help from someone or they each had magical horses of their own. It remained to be seen.

He also thought about the Sarmatians, who would be riding upon the citadel and were tasked to station themselves at least a day’s ride out, in order not to frighten the citizens. He had no idea how to feed that many people if he could not pay them, and he had not yet asked his father for money. The men seemed eager to take up the patrols Arthur had in mind for them and eager to trade horses. But would it be enough against Cenred, if he had truly allied with Morgause? He knew that she had magic, and because of that, he wasn’t certain anymore what that meant for Camelot. Perhaps Cenred would take a different direction and attack Bayard instead, or perhaps even head out to Olaf. He only hoped that Cenred wouldn’t make his move while they were out here, without the chance to anticipate the turn of events.

“Do you need anything, sire?” Merlin asked beside him.

“Bring me the letters from this morning.”

Merlin nodded and retreated into their tent. It had been a clever move; Merlin had asked how they would be distributing the tents, and whether he could share with Kay because he looked like he was never cold. The men had regarded Merlin in his small suede jacket and none of them had wanted to share with him. Arthur had practically sacrificed himself and none were the wiser.

He got the letters placed into his gloved hands. Merlin took a seat on the tree trunk some way off beside him and poked the fire, occasionally sparing a glance to Arthur. He was obviously curious about the contents of the letters.

The first letter was from his uncle, Agravaine, who kept the house of his mother in order after her death. He told them about their yields and about the local lords and their conflict. He mentioned that Sir Ywain’s house had finally fallen. The place was torn down and ransacked. Arthur suspected Lanval’s family to be the cause of this, if not the culprits.

He frowned in annoyance, uncertain what to do. If Ywain did not have a noble family anymore, then his father might remove him from the established knighthood, or send him off to battles against the worst odds in the hopes he would perish on the field honorably. It might be all that was left for Ywain, because at the age of 35 there wasn’t much else he would be taken up for, and certainly not if he could not mix with common folk. And he also wondered what to do about Lanval, who hadn’t reached his knighthood yet, but his family was as treacherous and dishonorable, as he expected.

He handed the letter to Merlin to read and noticed Bedivere eyeing them curiously. He didn’t speak up regarding the contents and also didn’t make excuses for Merlin reading his letter. If he had made the decision, as the Prince, they would have to contend with that.

The second note was closed with King Olaf’s seal, but it was signed by Lady Vivian. He read the note and sighed afterwards. The note began with reports on state affairs. They seemed to be doing well, their forces were strong and ready to brave the winter at sea. She also mentioned that she still had the affliction, though it was far less frequent now. She accentuated how grateful she was for all the events that occurred, because she now knew what kind of ally she might have in the future, if her wishes came true.

He also handed that note to Merlin. “You’re mentioned in this.” He avoided the glances of the other men, and stared into the fire instead, playing with his mother’s ring. The world was changing around them and he anticipated that the many years of peace would be over before he knew it. The treaty might support their defenses at some of their borders, but it would push other kings to more serious strategies. It was already happening.

But Camelot had the Pendragons, and they had Merlin. Arthur knew his father was a military force to be reckoned with, and he hoped that he could make good decisions once the task would become his. If only Merlin could be publicly accepted. But while his father ruled, it couldn’t be possible, and after his father was gone, he might not be able to persuade all of the council, the knights, and the people of his lands that magic users could, and would, use their magic for good. It gnawed at his insides and kept him thinking at night.

He knew what had to happen. Even if he could convince people that Merlin could be trusted, he would need more than one example. And that was the worst, because he didn’t know where or how to start looking. And even if he found them, how could he convince the nation to trust these people. Furthermore, once word got out that Arthur was a friend to magic users, how many of them would use it against him in name of the atrocities that his father performed for over two decades?

How could he heal this nation and the ones around it? Where to begin? He didn’t have the answers yet.

  
***

With the roads getting progressively worse and the winds having turned overnight, they had traveled significantly slower than Arthur had hoped, and they did not reach Idirsholas until mid-afternoon when the light was fading over the bleak winter landscape. It was then that it had finally come into view.

The ruins lay before them, its tall towers visible from miles away. They tied up the horses some way away in the forest, in order to hide their arrival. Then they armed themselves with shields, spears, and short-swords and advanced the ruins on foot. There was no smoke to be seen and everything was eerily quiet.

As they stepped inside, darkness surrounded them. The walls inside were blackened after ages of decay and there was nothing but a piercing cold that surrounded them. The sun had nearly set.

“What's that noise?” Merlin asked suddenly. The knights paused.

“What noise?” Arthur asked. He strained to hear, but couldn’t make out anything. He also didn’t want the knights to start being frightened now. The sun was low in the sky and they already didn’t have much light to work with.

“A sort of trembling sound,” Merlin explained.

Arthur sighed. “That's your knees knocking together.” He heard Kay chuckle and that was a good sign. “Get a torch, we’ll take it room by room.”

With most of the roofs collapsed, there was only the ground floor for them to check. All of the small rooms were empty stone chambers, with little to find except rubble and brickwork. The central hall however displayed a large dish with coaled wood lying on top. Arthur took off his glove and held his hand over the ashes. They were cool.

“It seems part of Joseph's story was true…”

“Um, my lord?” Merlin called out from behind him.

Suddenly, as if they had always been there, the seven Knights of Medhir stood in the door opening behind them. The very same they had just passed.

The Knights of Camelot spun on their heels, held up their swords, and ducked behind their shields.

The Knights of Medhir were entirely black, like the darkened ruins around them. Now that the sun had set, there was very little by way of twilight to distinguish them from the backdrop. They stood stock still, unmoving. Merlin held the torch high in the room to cast light on them. The black figure at the front took a menacing step forward, and it sounded like a stone grinding on gravel.

Arthur pushed to the front line and engaged combat to show the other knights that they shouldn’t be afraid.

With Merlin’s torch as their only light source, and the seven black figures swooping in to fight them, the hall felt too small. Arthur defended several blows from the knight he was attacking, and pushed another one away with his shield. He struck with the sword, right through the first Knight’s chest, his sword embedded deeply inside of it.

For a moment the Knight of Medhir faltered. Then it stood back up. Arthur quickly retrieved his sword, but not before he felt a slash of the Knight’s black sword across his shoulder.

Arthur grit his teeth and pushed forward, swinging his sword and using the shield to unbalance the Knight. He struck the knight again, piercing its body. It fell over and this time Arthur lost his sword beneath its fallen form. Within seconds his enemy was crawling up again.

“Arthur!” Merlin yelled at him.

He looked over and Merlin threw him a spare sword, which he used instantly to defend himself. If he hadn’t… Merlin had been right, these creatures couldn’t die. Around him the other men were fighting and coming to similar conclusions.

“Run, everyone! Merlin! Go!”

Arthur heard a yell and turned back to see Sir Bedivere impaled on one of the black swords. The other Knights of Medhir turned to them, the blackened expressions behind their helmets unfathomable. The other knights scrambled and left the darkened hall, and made for the exit.

Merlin was still standing beside him.

“What are you...?! Do as I say!” Arthur snapped. Merlin didn’t have magic to fight them, and Arthur couldn’t protect him. He instinctively shoved him towards the entrance.

Merlin resisted at the door opening and reached out a hand, “ _Ahríes þæc!_ ”

Together they stumbled over each other as the roof collapsed on top of the Knights of Medhir, and soon the entire building was shaking. They ran for their lives through the destabilized hall. And around them bricks and stone were falling down. The rumbling of the ground told him that soon, everything would collapse. He suddenly felt a push of wind, which knocked him outside the structure quicker than should be possible. He landed in the dirt among the other Knights of Camelot, who pulled him to his feet. Behind him, the building collapsed in a deafening rumble that echoed over the rolling hills.

At once he spun around and yelled, “Merlin!” to the rising smoke and rubble.

When he heard a cough and saw Merlin emerge from the thick dust, his heart lifted. He didn’t know what Merlin had done, or how he had done it, but the Knights were sealed inside, covered by a ton of tone.

“We need to get back to Camelot, gather reinforcements,” Arthur said to the others.

“These things are demons!” Sir Caridoc yelled out. “They killed Bedivere!” He looked miserable and Owain wiped his nose, feigning impassivity.

Slowly, they heard a rumble and the ground shook. Something was being pushed or thrown aside from among the rubble. “They’re coming through. We’ve got to go.”

“We are retreating, sire?” Kay asked gruffly.

“Yes, we are! Unless you want to die right here! We have no way of combating them, no light, and we don’t know where they’re headed. So you will follow my command, and we will fall back.”

“We can’t leave his remains in there!” Owain complained.

Leon put a hand on Owain’s shoulder. “It’s too dangerous!”

“If there’s anything left of them, I’ll send an envoy. But _not today_!” Arthur grabbed Owain’s arm and shook him. “He was my friend too, and my anointed knight. Now is not the time for this, Owain. Go, move!”

Merlin was already running ahead. They traveled through the pitch darkness of the winter night and by mere grace of the full moon found the path to their horses again.

“Curse whoever brought these things back to life,” Caridoc complained, “and their foul magic.”

They fetched the horses and retreated up the hill until they found a place with a good overview to the ruins of what had once been Idirsholas. Its tower lay destroyed off to one side and the dust was carried by the wind through the night sky, visible in the light of the moon.

“From here, we can see three of the roads they might want to take,” Arthur said. “We will know what they are planning to do.”

“How do you know they aren’t dead already?” Kay asked.

Owain held his mouth pursed and went to stand some way off, next to his horse.

“Why else would there be a legend about them? We’re not to sleep until daylight, we will stand watch.”

Caridoc whirled around. “You can’t be—”

“Shhh, over there!” Leon hissed.

When they looked down at the ruins in the valley below, there was clearly a figure standing in front of the building. The figure wore a long cloak and a blue-green sort of light emerged from their fingertips.

“A sorcerer!” Caridoc spat on the ground.

“Keep your voice down,” Arthur hissed. He ignored the sting on his arm, which was hurting now that he was pulling on the reins of his horse.

Slowly the rubble was being moved aside. The horses stepped back and forth with anticipation while the men watched anxiously. Whoever it was, it seemed as if they were clearing a path for the Knights of Medhir. Entire parts of walls were moved aside, flung into the trees as if they were mere handfuls of pebbles. And finally, the dark figures emerged, like black, gaping holes in the night which their eyes did not want to acknowledge.

“I don’t believe it,” Caridoc complained. “They’re still moving.”

The sorcerer was stepping aside for the knights. The black warriors sheathed their swords and were not harming the person there. Instead, the cloaked figure brought them to a clearing where a group of horses were waiting for them.

“This is bad,” Owain complained.

They remained quiet for what seemed like several minutes. They were just out of sight behind a group of trees. It was hard to discern whether they had started moving or not.

Then at once, the Knights of Medhir were seen riding fast towards the larger roads. They approached the intersection. The sorcerer rode in front of them. They left trails of dust behind them as their horses suffered the weight of these creatures. Arthur stared down at them, with his heart in his throat. At last they took a turn.

“Ride, ride now!” Arthur shouted.

The Knights of Medhir were taking the road to the citadel.

  
**\-----94 Merlin-----**

Merlin and the knights had ridden all night, with Arthur in the lead. They had ensured to stay ahead of the Knights of Medhir, so they could warn the citadel on time. There was no doubt, Arthur had said, that this was where they were headed. The way was dark, and they had no further torches, so they went as fast as they could with the light of the moon when they had it.

Merlin was extremely concerned. He had been wounded and he looked pale. He was obviously concerned about the citadel. There was nothing they could do to stop these creatures.

Merlin had kept the rear in order to feign exhaustion. It broke him apart from the other riders enough so that he could slow down to destroy part of the foundations of a bridge behind him without the knowledge of the others. Now that he had seen what happened with the Elsthyr, he knew just how to destabilize it. It would collapse under the weight of the Knights of Medhir and buy them precious time. Even if the evil Knights would survive it, Merlin was fairly certain that their horses would not. It was all he could do.

When Merlin and Royse appeared behind the Knights of Camelot again, they hadn’t even missed him.

Daybreak arrived, and they were all beyond exhaustion. Now that the sunlight spread over the land and the Knights of Medhir weren’t in sight yet, they could rest. They were almost at the Darkling Woods, which marked familiar territory for them, and it was a good place to set up camp.

Arthur explained to them that these magical beings could no longer move until night would fall again. It gave them some hours to rest the horses and catch up on sleep. They were just a few hours ride away from the citadel now.

“We will ride at dusk,” the prince concluded. Arthur looked even worse than before. He was exhausted and he nearly took a misstep as he set up the perimeter. Merlin followed him.

“Sire?” he offered cautiously. Arthur was holding a hand over his wounded shoulder. “Is there anything I can—”

“Go! We have things to do, Merlin,” Owain said, and sent him away. “Water the horses, do something useful for once!”

Their camp was quiet now. Caridoc, Leon, and Kay had fallen asleep on their bedrolls right away, while Arthur and Owain were setting up the rest of the tents. Merin was worried. Reluctantly, he set out to gather water at the brook nearby. After all, their mounts had ridden for many hours, and the men had been heavily laden with armor and shields. It was something useful he could do. Owain’s words stung. He _was_ useless to them.

But he resolved to bite back any reply he might give. They would have to get all the sleep they could, before riding out at night again. It was the only certainty they had.

When he climbed back up the bank, he nearly dropped the pail of water. Owain was on his knees, leaning over Arthur, who lay flat on his back. His arms and legs lay splayed at odd angles. Merlin ran as fast as his tired legs could carry him. Owain was propping Arthur’s head up. It seemed that the prince was delirious.

“What happened?”

Owain squinted up with tired eyes to Merlin. “Probably just collapsed.”

“Let me examine him,” Merlin demanded. At least Owain had to permit him his role as physician. He picked up the arm with the wound. It was limp and the skin felt hot to the touch. “Was he bleeding all night?”

“Yes, he said it was just a scratch.”

Merlin knelt down next to Arthur and looked at the gap in the chainmail that the sword of the Knight of Medhir had created. He couldn’t see much besides caked blood. “We have to take his armor off.”

“We can hardly lift him as he is,” Owain complained.

“I can’t dress the wound otherwise. We can’t have him get sick, not now.” Merlin eyed Owain, waiting for him to move. “He is your prince! What would his father say?”

At last Owain moved and with a grunt pushed Arthur upright so that Merlin could undo his pauldron, arm-brace, vambraces, coif, breastplate, and at last the hauberk. He did so in record time. While the prince’s armor was being piled beside him, Leon approached them, having woken up from the noise. His eyes were red and his nose was runny. “What’s going on?”

“His wound,” Merlin said, “It’s—”

“Is it infected?” Owain asked.

“This is no infection.” Merlin revealed the opening, which had cut straight through the gambeson, through the shirt and woolen undershirt below. Arthur’s skin all around the wound had turned pitch black, so dark it was hard for them to look at.

“That can’t be right!” Leon said.

“Arthur? Arthur!” Merlin tried to get him to respond and held his face. “He’s burning up.” Fear gnawed at him and he felt sick with worry. He tore the opening of the shirts further open, to see if the rest of his arm was affected too. It looked just fine, except for the fact that it was entirely limp.

“Shall we get him something to drink?” Leon suggested.

“Yeah, didn’t you just get some water?” Owain pushed.

Merlin climbed to his feet and ran towards the flasks, but by the time he had returned, Arthur was lying flat on his back again. His eyes were lolling back in his head. The very sight of it coiled something deep and twisted around Merlin’s heart, as if brandishing him. He couldn’t let Arthur die.

When he looked at the wound again, he gasped. It had gotten bigger, and the blackness was slowly spreading across his arm. Merlin bit his lip. He was being taken by whatever the blackness was. It looked exactly like the warriors they had seen. Merlin weighed it over. He thought that it would either consume him or turn him into a Knight of Medhir. The legend did say that all of them were warriors. In both cases, Arthur would die.

He lifted the flask to the prince’s lips. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, when he saw that Arthur wouldn’t drink. The water sloshed back out of his mouth and his lips were still, pale and cracked from the long ride through the cold night.

“Arthur, I need you to wake up.” Merlin shook him until Owain put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“You can’t treat him like that!” Owain said unhelpfully.

None of the men understood what it would mean to Merlin if he lost Arthur. His mind fired random ideas at him, spells he didn’t know, potions he didn’t have with him. By now Caridoc and Kay had awoken too, and all four men stood around him and the prince.

“Aren’t you going to wash that wound?” Caridoc asked Merlin with some irritation.

Then it dawned upon Merlin. Water. Morgana had said they had to stay close to water. “Help me bring him to the water’s edge, here I know the way.”

“Whoa, hold on there. Just a sprinkle will do it,” Owain said.

“Not if his skin is black, not if he’s hot with a fever. I’ve studied under Gaius, he needs to cool down in the water, and to have the wound washed.” Merlin hoped he was right, but luckily his momentary stern look put the knights into action.

Leon was the first to move. He lifted Arthur’s good arm and put it around his neck. He pushed Arthur up, and Owain took his wounded arm. Caridoc and Kay took his legs and together they walked after Merlin, who showed them the clear path, down to the brook.

The water ran cold, but swiftly. The brook itself was shallow and filled with autumn leaves from copper beeches, turning it red in the midday sun. When they lay Arthur down at the water’s edge, Merlin stepped on a stone in the water, and pulled Arthur’s wounded arm into the brook. At once Arthur sighed and gasped. The men looked hopeful, but the prince didn’t wake. His head lolled against the leaves, his expression twisted in anguish.

“Arthur? Can you tell me if you are hurting?” Merlin asked, and submerged the prince’s arm.

“Of course he’s hurting!” Caridoc barked.

“Let’s not be so loud,” Leon offered.

“If Arthur’s sick, one of us should at least keep riding,” Owain said.

“Nonsense,” Caridoc countered him. “We’re staying together. We are his guard.”

“There’s no time!” Owain barked. “What about the citadel? Who is guarding them when the Knights come?”

“If they come, then all the people who stand in their way are doomed anyway,” Caridoc replied.

“You would actually—”

“What’s that?” Kay asked. He pointed at Arthur’s arm in the water.

Merlin had been too occupied with washing the wound to see what had happened. The arm that lay in the water, floating steadily in the running stream, was now graced with the hilt of a sword in Arthur’s palm. The hilt was gold and black, and finely crafted. Arthur’s fingers were curling around it slowly, as if guided by some compulsion. Small bubbles appeared out of the leaf litter in the stream and broke the surface around Arthur’s arm.

“Well I’ll be…” Caridoc stepped into the water and reached out for the sword.

“No, don’t,” Merlin tried.

“You shouldn’t—” Leon said at the same time, but Caridoc had already wet his glove.

“What on earth?” Caridoc spat. “It’s gone.”

Merlin shook his head. He had recognized the sword. It was the one intended for Arthur one day. Perhaps even this day. He remembered the Great Dragon’s words. ‘In the wrong hands, this sword could do great evil.’ The sword wasn’t even supposed to be here, he had thrown it into the lake where the Lady resided, over a year ago. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Perhaps this was the hour of truth?

“What do you mean it’s gone?” Owain said. “It was right there. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“We all did,” Leon offered, “but it was probably something magic. We had best stay away from it.”

Merlin looked up at them. “We don’t even know what’s happening to him.” He was feeling entirely helpless.

Leon was the first to point out at the water. The stream had started bubbling and swirling around itself as if it had to weave its way around rocks and other obstacles in the water, but everything was totally clear. The swirling surface seemed to swirl and dance itself around Arthur’s arm.

“Get him out of there,” Kay said. “Quick!”

Together, the knights pulled Arthur away from the water’s edge. They didn’t manage to heave him out quick enough and the water bubbled wildly around Arthur’s arm.

“No, wait,” Merlin begged. The water, it was good. If Morgana said so, it had to be good. Whether the sword had come to his aid, or if the Lady of the Lake had been behind it, he couldn’t tell. There was nothing sinister about it, he knew that much.

“Shut up and help us!” Owain shouted.

Merlin had no choice but to comply and Arthur was lifted out of the water, but not before Caridoc slipped, and before Arthur’s sleeve ripped, sending him back into. Merlin wasn’t giving up that easily, not where Arthur was concerned. These were the small things he _could_ do.

They dragged him back to their camp and laid him down in one of the tents. Merlin got out his travel pouch from the saddlebag and brought it with him. Leon took out a knife and began to wordlessly cut the remainder of Arthur’s sleeve away.

Leon looked at Merlin in astonishment. “It’s gone. The blackness. It must have washed off.”

Merlin mustered all his self control to offer Leon an impassive face. He was satisfied enough that the black taint had fully disappeared. The foul magic had not taken hold of the prince. But he didn’t look much better than before. “What do we do, sir?”

“You will dress the wound,” Leon said to Merlin matter-of-factly. Arthur’s current state left him in charge. “We only have a few hours. Divide rations.”

Merlin covered Arthur with both the bedrolls and stuffed a rolled-up cloak behind his head. “He’s got to wake up. We can’t ride with him like this, sir.”

“I know, but Owain is right. We must also warn the citadel. Make sure he’s warm, for now.”

Merlin nodded, and Leon got up and left. He would make bloody sure Arthur was warm. Within moments the air in the tent had warmed and the ground directly beneath Arthur had too. Merlin sat down on Arthur’s right side and glanced down at the washed wound. He saw that the earlier gash had become a thin red line, which would certainly become a scar.

But he had still not woken up.

  
**\-----95 Morgana-----**

Morgana stood near the window in her chambers and watched Gwen returning with her borrowed horse through the courtyard. She had asked for the afternoon off again, and Morgana had happily accepted. She had gone to see that man again.

Of course, Gwen had to be back on time. Morgana would have to get dressed and join her father for the midwinter feast. Uther had been in a foul mood since Arthur and the most loyal Knights of Camelot were gone. The younger knights were taking the opportunity to strive for a chance to impress the king, and Morgana knew that it would amount to nothing good.

Morgana returned to her seat near the fire and played with the flames. She had lost her fear of fire entirely. Each time the flames took her energy and burned more brightly, or they swayed to her command and slunk down. She had been able to warm her room with it, although from time to time the smoke would become a bit too much and she’d had to open a window again.

She was learning fast and she was eager for more. One by one, she had sent her old poems into the flames, and watched them get consumed by her true gift, the only gift that mattered. The ink on the paper colored the flames, to her great amusement, and she felt that she bore the solitude quite well.

It was how she had come up with her plan.

Seeing Gwen ride out day after day to meet with the Sarmatians had filled her with longing to be out of the citadel. If Morgause, her sister, succeeded in killing Uther, she would be ready with her plea. She knew where she would go. Everything depended on Uther’s obliteration, first and foremost. If she did not succeed, she would have to find another way.

She needed to go, that was certain. It was exactly what she longed for. After all, what would she be leaving behind? A collection of jewels and brushes, some beautiful dresses?

And the certainty of stone walls and meals delivered on her table. Morgana lowered the fire to its absolute minimum as she pondered this. It would be cold without rooms to warm her. She would need to fend for herself. Her feet would get cold and her hands would have to work on things she had never had to do in her life.

The fire came to life again. No, she would never have to do any of these things. She had magic after all. And all it would take would be to simply learn how to be adept at it.

The only thing she knew for a certainty though was that she would have to learn how to fight. She brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle a yawn.

The jewel on her bracelet was glowing.

  
**\-----96 Arthur-----**

Arthur stirred and heard faint voices, far away. Everything felt warm and snug and there was no way he wanted to let go of that. An echo rang through his head and it was steadily getting louder. He definitely didn’t want to go there, so he hid back inside the darkness and the voices faded.

He didn’t know whether seconds had passed, or hours, or days, before another voice called out beside him. He was being tugged out of a place which seemed suitable to rest for an eternity, perhaps longer than that. He couldn’t feel his body, he didn’t know how to open his eyes.

The voice got closer.

“Arthur? Arthur?”

Suddenly he was aware that he was breathing. The snug darkness was replaced by the a sensation of being somewhere, lying down and with a heavy head on something soft. He didn’t want this at all. He needed to go back and hide, rest.

“Arthur?”

 _Go away_.

Arthur!”

_No!_

He began to feel that he was covered by something, blankets perhaps. He got the sensation back that he had legs and that he was thirsty, so thirsty.

“Arthur?”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

No more sound, just muttering. Perhaps he could go back to sleep. There was a hand pulling at his shoulder. At last he opened his eyes and frowned when he was staring at Leon and Kay. They were sitting beside him, each to one side. Above him the tent cover kept most of the light away, which was a blessing.

“Arthur, how are you feeling?” Leon asked.

Kay eyed him, his lips moved to say something but he didn’t. It was probably something encouraging and that wasn’t his strong suit.

“What happened? Where—?”

“We’re stationed near the Darkling Woods, sire. Do you remember? We’re almost back.”

Arthur slowly turned around to lie on his back and blinked his fatigue away. He knew these men well, and it wouldn’t do to show weakness. He felt abysmal, though. Not quite in touch with the outside world yet.

“Yes, we were…” There was something they were doing. Something important.

The tent flap opened and Merlin, who was kneeling outside, ducked his face in. When he saw that Arthur was awake, he stopped in the middle of his movement, and stared. His eyes went round and his lips parted.

All at once, Arthur knew why they were here. Idirsholas, the Knights of Medhir, the tower’s collapse, and the ride back. “What time is it? We have to go.” His fatigue was gone as if he’d simply had a short nap. He sat upright and by the second he felt his energy returning to him.

“Is that wise, sire? Are you—?”

“I’m fine, Leon. Get me some water.”

Merlin handed Leon the deerskin flask he had been carrying. Leon offered it to the prince, who drank greedily from it. When he was done drinking, Merlin was gone from the tent flap. All he saw was the glow of the sun over the landscape.

“Are we too late?” He shot a glance at Leon.

“Not yet,” Leon said. “If you feel strong enough to ride, I say we leave at once.”

“Prepare my horse,” he said. Leon nodded at once and crawled out of the small tent. Arthur lifted the blankets and realized he was out of his armor somehow. The cold air brushed over his bandaged arm. His entire shirt had been mauled to do so.

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember, my lord?” Kay asked cautiously.

“Remember what exactly?” He eyed Kay with a frown.

Kay lowered his head and offered a spiteful grin. “It was like magic, sire. There was a sword in the water, in your hand. When we lowered you in, that was.”

“My sword?”

“Not yours, sire. A different one.”

Arthur clenched his jaw and pushed the blanket away. He wanted to know more about what that was. “Well, where is it now then?”

“Vanished, sire. Like I said, it was magic.”

“It did no harm to anyone?” He touched his arm carefully to see if there was anything underneath that he needed to worry about. But it felt fine. He started peeling away the bandages.

“No, it was gone before anyone could get near it. We got you out of the water, sire.”

“Probably some mirage then. Why was I in the water?” The bandages came off slowly and Arthur peered underneath, then stripped them away completely.

“Not rightly sure,” he said and suddenly gasped, “Impossible!” He made a grab for Arthur’s arm, forgetting what was proper. The skin on Arthur’s arm was smooth as if nothing had happened. Not even the smallest hint of a scar remained.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“You were hurt, sire, badly! We were thinking you might lose your arm. Or worse than that.”

“It looks just fine to me.” He ran a hand through his hair and popped a muscle in his back before he climbed out of the tent.

“It’s all the water, sire. It… it reached out.” Kay followed him in quick, urgent strides. “It was after your arm!”

“Did it touch me?” Arthur asked, frowning. Was this something magic? Had he missed all of it? He had no recollection at all except that his arm had hurt all the while as he was riding, after being slashed by one of the Knights of Medhir.

“Yes, sire.”

“Then… you would say that it has healed me?”

The knight looked at him with some worry. He wanted to speak, but didn’t dare. He looked away instead, just in time to catch his saddleback, which got thrown in his direction by Owain.

“I’ll ask you one more time, and you can answer me plainly. If this magic was good, and it has healed me, it’s important for me to know. Especially if the other Knights of Medhir are coming.” He put a hand on Kay’s shoulder.

“Yes, sire. I think that’s what it did,” he said with a shudder, and clear conflict was written on his face. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Arthur squeezed Kay’s shoulder and gave a small nod, before turning to Leon and Caridoc, who were packing up quickly. Behind him, Owain was readying the horses.

“Your rations.” Merlin was suddenly beside him with a steaming meal. He didn’t have time to ask Merlin anything private. So he set to consuming his food quickly, while the others around him cleared the camp. “Cover all signs that we were here,” he ordered. “Douse the fire.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said lightly and poured a pot of water—which had been prepared for the evening meal—over the fire and started to bury it with sand and leaves. Then moments later he had returned with Arthur’s armor and offered him his gambeson. “Your arm?”

“I’m fine,” was all he said.

“You almost weren’t,” Merlin mumbled as he fastened the straps across the thick padded coat and offered him his breastplate.

“Did you do it?”

“No, none of it.” Merlin threw the belt around Arthur’s waist and closed his mouth quickly, picking up a different piece of gear when Caridoc suddenly appeared beside them.

“The sun has set, sire. We’re ready to go.”

As Merlin was placing his pauldron over him and pulling the straps, Arthur looked at his knights, each in turn. The rest of his armor was added quickly and precisely by Merlin’s agile fingers and Arthur spoke.

“We have passed the longest night of the year riding. I know most of you haven’t slept enough. But right now I need all of you to give me your word. Whatever happens, whatever is behind us, we will keep looking forward and we will warn the city. Then, we will make our stand against them.” He glanced at each one of them individually to ensure that they would have each other’s back. They nodded at them and Leon brought him his horse.

When he turned around, Merlin was glancing up at him with a small twinkle in his eye. He pulled the cloak around Arthur’s back and the twinkle was already gone. Before Merlin’s hands left his shoulders from putting his cloak in place, Arthur took a moment to rest his hand on top. He needed to feel his skin, his warmth. He knew that it was Merlin’s warmth which had kept him so well-rested in his tent. He had no doubt whatsoever.

“We’ve got to go,” Merlin said and pulled his hand back. There was a small curl on his lip though.

It made him feel alive, more than his meal had. It gave him courage that whatever they were going to face, they would have at least some force of resistance with them. He couldn’t possibly expect Camelot to accept a sorcerer in their midst, even one who would protect them to the bitter end. But if Merlin needed to move in secret, or in the space between, it might be enough to give them time to find a way.

He mounted Thorunn, and with all their things packed and the campsite looking empty as before, they set off on the Roman roads, which would lead them back to the citadel.

Night had fallen.

  
**\-----96 Merlin-----**

“It’s no good,” Merlin said. “They’re all asleep.” He ran back out to the royal courtyard after having checked inside. “It’s the same as everywhere.”

The whole city had fallen asleep.

The Knights of Camelot had returned to the city to find it shrouded in darkness. None of the evening fires were lit. The streets were empty, the taverns were quiet, and all of the guards were fast asleep. They had tried to awaken several people, but none would be roused. Merlin felt an aura around him, thick and sedating.

“Must be some kind of sickness?” He glanced at Arthur meaningfully and the prince gave him a stiff nod. It was most certainly magic.

They barely stabled the horses and gathered at the courtyard. Leon and Owain returned from their searches as well.

“What about Gaius?” Leon asked.

Merlin shook his head. “Fast asleep.”

Owain was glaring up at the parapets, thinking that at any moment an enemy sorcerer would reveal themselves. Merlin couldn’t guess whether he was right or not. He craned his neck to look until he was yanked inside by Arthur.

“We must find my father, at once! And Morgana, and the other knights,” Arthur barked. “Owain, Caridoc, I need you to guard the gatehouse. Ring the warning bells or the trumpets if the Knights of Medhir are coming. Kay, I need you to find the other knights, see where they are and if they are well. We’ll need our crossbows to attack from a distance, gather those.”

“Sire?” Leon said.

“You will search the ground floors; throne room, council chambers, banquet hall, and kitchens, wherever you need. Search everywhere for my father. We’ll head upstairs. Keep an eye out for Lady Morgana.”

“Yes, sire.”

The knights left in a rush. “We need to find my father right away,” Arthur pressed.

Merlin fretted. He followed Arthur up the stairs and once he was certain they were out of earshot he said, “This is magic, I know it is.”

“Not an illness?” Arthur asked.

“No, everyone looks fine, feels fine. There’s an aura here that I can’t place. I can sense it.” It still felt liberating to speak freely to Arthur. Even if they couldn’t understand what was happening, they could put their heads together and discuss their options.

“Who has targeted us?” Arthur asked irritably as he pushed open the doors to his father’s room.

“I don’t know,” Merlin answered honestly.

“Father!”

King Uther lay on the floor, snoring away. In the corner of the room lay Holden, similarly fast asleep. Arthur knelt beside his father. He was unmovable and would not be roused.

“See, he's all right,” Merlin offered.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “He is not ‘all right.’”

“All we have to do is find the cure. A way to wake them.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” he snapped and then sighed. “I know it’s not your fault. But there’s no one left awake to ask.”

“I’ve found Morgana!” Leon called out through the hallway.

Within seconds, Merlin was at the door and calling out to Leon that they had found Uther. Leon walked in with Morgana in his arms and placed her down on Uther’s bed. “She’s sleeping, just like the others.”

Merlin noticed that the stone set in the bracelet Morgana was wearing was glowing.

“This is wrong,” Arthur said. “This will be one of the first places they look. We have to get them somewhere else.” Before Arthur could utter the rest of his plan, the warning bells sounded.

They rushed towards the window and saw Owain and Caridoc standing in the courtyard with their shields raised. The Knights of Medhir rode in and even as Owain and Caridoc fought, they kept going. Cleverly, the knights slashed at the legs of their horses, so the dark Knights went tumbling. One of them was hit with an arrow, loosened from the crossbow Kay aimed down from one of the parapets.

Caridoc lifted his sword high to decapitate one of the knights. His sword got stuck, however, and he was pushed away. The push sent him sprawling across the cobblestones and he lost his shield along the way. The eighth rider lowered their hood.

“Morgause?!” Arthur hissed. “What is she doing?”

Merlin shook his head. He hadn’t been certain of Morgause’s allegiance before, but now she had certainly become an enemy of Camelot.

Owain was driving one of the Knights of Medhir back when suddenly one of the other Knights slashed at his back. Owain fell in a spray of blood and his face hit the stones painfully. Another Knight chopped his head clean off.

“No!” Arthur called. “I’m going to help them!”

“You can’t!” Merlin said. He pointed at the Knight with the arrow through his chest, who was getting up.

Caridoc was getting to his feet as well, but it took the remaining mounted Knights only two well-aimed blows and Caridoc had fallen too.

Arthur smashed his fist against the window. “No! Damn you, Morgause!”

Even as Kay poured more arrows into them, the Knights of Medhir persisted and kept riding towards the castle. They dismounted. Within moments they would be inside.

“You can’t fight them. Neither of you,” Merlin said with a small voice. He was feeling utterly useless. He didn’t know what he could do.

“Sire, let’s move the King and Morgana.” Leon stifled a yawn.

“Yes,” Arthur said hoarsely.

“I’ll try to create barricades.”

“Don’t be a fool, Merlin. They have a sorceress!” Leon said.

“If you keep moving,” Merlin offered, “it will take them a while to find you.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said and put a hand on his shoulder. He was uncertain, Merlin could see it in his eyes and it tore a hole through him. “Anything that you can do… to help.”

“For Camelot,” Merlin said and offered a wan smile, “we’ll find our courage.” He turned and ran down the hall. There had to be _something_ he could do.

  
Morgause and the Knights would be entering the castle now, but they had the disadvantage of not knowing the intricate network of corridors. Merlin slipped into the servants’ corridors and took the small stairs down to the kitchens. From there he descended another pair of stairs to the store rooms and passed the armory. He lifted a hand and sent racks of spears, shields and swords crashing down at once. It created a massive ruckus. He hoped that this would attract the Knights of Medhir down, and give Arthur and Leon more time to move the King and his ward.

Morgana’s bracelet had been glowing, he reflected. It must mean something. But she was asleep, just like the others, so he doubted that it was anything she had done. She wasn’t strong enough for this, not for something that affected the whole citadel. She wouldn’t have put herself in danger like that. He doubted that someone like Morgause had that strength too. How could anyone contain all that power and control at once?

Merlin descended further, and just to be certain he covered several walls to the treasuries, masking them, shouting, “ _Heisámn þúraksten seiþ clodeícht!_ ” One by one the door openings to three rooms now looked like stone wall surfaces.

He proceeded to shove several heavy crates and barrels into the passages to stop them further if they came that far down. It wouldn’t stop them, not forever.

Then he decided that there was only one thing he could do. The only answer he could get.

He went to see the Great Dragon.

Once he descended into the cavern beneath the citadel, he saw the Great Dragon curled up on the rock in front of him.

“What's going on?! Why is everyone asleep?!” The dragon was making sounds which sounded like snoring. Merlin was losing hope fast, feeling his eyes droop. “Please, not you as well? I need your help! What am I going to do?” He paused and shook his head. “Don't pretend. I know you're listening to me.”

The dragon unfurled his great and powerful wings and swished his tail out widely. He yawned, which made Merlin stifle a yawn of his own. “I don't need to listen to you, Merlin. You always say the same thing: ‘Help me.’ And yet you refuse to give anything in return. Now you will face the consequence of that decision. Camelot's end is nigh, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Merlin shook his head. “I know I promised to free you, and I will!”

The dragon offered him a spiteful, unhappy laugh.

“I will! I promise!”

“I no longer trust your promises.” His golden eyes settled on Merlin with anger.

He had to think of something. The Knights of Medhir were already inside, Morgause was with them and if he didn’t act now, everything would be lost. “I swear on my mother's life!”

This piqued the dragon’s interest. He got up to his feet and leaned his head forward. “Careful what you say,” he warned.

“You have to help me. _Please_?” There was nothing more he could offer. He felt his knees tremble and his brain going soft. He felt as if he too would like to curl up somewhere to sleep. Nothing but his adrenaline was keeping him going for now.

“Her life matters more to you than your own. This is an oath I believe you will honour.”

“I will.”

The dragon settled on his rock and tilted his head. “It is one thing to cast a spell that puts everyone to sleep. The power to maintain it is a very different matter. It will need more than just words to break this enchantment.”

Merlin took a step forward. If the Great Dragon knew that there was something he could do, that meant he could hope again. “What do you mean?”

“You must eradicate the source, Merlin.”

“Great. What is that?”

“Not what, but who. Such spells need a vessel to give them strength. The source of this pestilence is the witch, Lady Morgana.”

Merlin huffed and his feet felt like lead. He shook his head, incredulous. “Can't be.” Sleep was beginning to tug at the insides of his eyes.

“I have warned you about her in the past, but you have failed to take heed. She is dangerous!”

“No.” He couldn’t believe it. Morgana wouldn’t do this to them. It would mean betrayal of the worst kind. He knew that she had been unhappy. He felt guilty once more for not having done more during her lonely days, for not having pushed Arthur to keep her company. But it couldn’t be her, it just couldn’t.

“And now she has chosen to turn her back on her own.”

He thought about what would happen if he didn’t do as the dragon said. He had already made the promise on his mother’s life, he was already almost losing everything there was. And he was running out of time. “How do I stop her?”

“That is easy, young warlock. You must kill her.”

He tasted bile and steadied himself against the rock behind him. “No! She’s asleep, just like everyone else.”

“The spell is woven with magic of such power that even you are not immune. You must act now before it's too late. If you do not, then Camelot will fall and Arthur will die, and the future you were destined to share will die with you.”

Merlin looked up at the dragon, wondering if he had any idea of the depth of truth he had just spoken and took a deep breath. He needed to stay awake for this. He _had_ to.

He set off to find Arthur. And Morgana.

  
**\-----97 Arthur-----**

Together with Leon, Arthur had carried Morgana and his father up to one of the towers and hidden them. It hadn’t taken long for four of the Knights of Medhir to challenge them in the corridors. And there was no sign of Merlin. Arthur despaired.

There wasn’t much room to fight, but Leon and Arthur took their stand shoulder to shoulder, and stayed on the defense. They captured and deflected blows, parried and tried to unbalance the knights, but they no longer attempted to kill them. They pushed furniture into their way whenever they could, but the Knights of Medhir slashed or pushed through them each time.

Slowly they were being backed up, and if they gave way completely, the Knights would soon be able to slay everyone in the castle without any resistance. And on top of that, he was absolutely exhausted. His sword felt heavy in his hands and he saw that Leon was similarly struggling.

Arthur lunged forward suddenly and sent one of the Knights crashing back into two others, and took Leon by the arm and away around a corner. They leaned against opposite walls to recompose themselves, panting and sweating heavily. He thought about Bedivere, Owain, and Caridoc. Their lives were already lost. Perhaps Kay’s as well. He had trained with these men and they had given their lives. He didn’t want to lose Leon as well.

But he also couldn’t give in, not now.

“On three?” he asked Leon. The knight nodded at him with some reluctance.

Hours of practice, which had frequently drained him to the very last of his energy, now gave him just enough strength to push away from the wall once more. From the other end of the hall he saw Merlin running toward them. His stride was sloppy, as if he was struggling to keep his balance. Even Merlin was succumbing to the sleeping spell.

Just as Merlin was about to reach them, one of the Knights of Medhir stepped around the corner. And Merlin was unarmed.

Arthur roared and pushed forward again, slamming into the Knight’s attacking sword with three heavy blows and one to the knee. He didn’t know where his energy had come from, but the Knight stumbled momentarily. It was just enough for Merlin to reach them in a long stride, before the Knight got up and attacked again. Leon caught the blow for him this time, as he panted and pulled his sweaty hair from his forehead.

“Where are the other Knights?”

“Down below,” Merlin panted, straining to keep his eyes open.

“It’s not working,” Arthur said. He couldn’t put more words together than that.

“You’re falling asleep?” Merlin asked and Arthur nodded. Leon was now fending off two Knights at once and Arthur wiped his top lip before moving forward again. “I need to stay awake, Merlin. Find me something.”

Merlin shook his head. He couldn’t break the spell that was taking a hold over them, Arthur understood. But the adrenaline that had kept them all going was also waning. Then suddenly, Merlin stepped away down the hall, and a second later returned with a bucket of water that he threw over Arthur and Leon heads.

Just at that moment, the Knights of Medhir turned around the corner, and advanced on them once more. Merlin threw the bucket at the Knights. One of them stepped into the bucket awkwardly and stumbled down again, offering a few seconds of pause for Arthur and Leon to catch their breath once more, now soaking wet.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” Arthur complained loudly. His face and armor were dripping wet, and his hair was plastered all over his forehead.

Merlin knelt. “Well, it worked didn’t it?”

“Get up,” he urged him. He was not willing to give up, not on Camelot, not on Merlin, not on anyone yet. He blinked away the numbness at the back of his mind.

Leon grumbled and pushed the cabinet into the hallway to create another blockade. They were running out of furniture, fast.

“Yeah, we have to,” Merlin sighed. “Where’s Morgana?”

Arthur shook his head and looked down momentarily. Then he blinked at the puddle of water that lay around him. He leaned down and seemed to almost touch his nose with the surface. There was something down there. He could just see it, just make it out from the way the light hit the surface.

“Don’t… don’t fall asleep!” Merlin urged him, fighting the same battle.

Then Arthur let go of his sword and touched the water with his gloved hand. Merlin looked at him stupidly and Leon yelled for them to watch out.

The cabinet came crashing towards them and just at that moment, Arthur lifted his hand up and blocked the oncoming attack of the Knight with a brand new, shining sword in his hand. He swung it and slew the Knight that was attacking him.

It turned to dust in an instant.

The three that remained in the hallway kept coming. Arthur had no time to feel relief. “Cover me,” he said to Leon and roared another battle cry as he stepped forward to attack the second one. The sword felt light in his hand and almost sung as Arthur swung it. Within several moments, Arthur had severed the Knight’s sword arm and aimed for his heart. The second Knight, too, went flying. His fatigue wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been moments ago, but he saw that Leon was faltering fast.

“Merlin?” he called out. When he turned his head to look, Merlin wasn’t there.

  
**\-----98 Merlin-----**

Merlin had opened the door to the first room on his right and had seen Morgana and Uther laid out on top of one of the guest beds. They were still deeply asleep. He pushed his feet forward, one in front of the other and thought about his mother. He thought about her face and all that she had ever had to put up with because of him.

When he reached Morgana, he looked her over. She seemed peacefully asleep. Perhaps for once not haunted by her nightmares. She couldn’t possibly be the cause, he refused to believe it. He looked down and saw the bracelet on her arm.

The stone on it glowed brightly, just like before. When he reached his hand out to touch it, he felt a strong magic emanating from it.

It _was_ the bracelet. That was it. He couldn’t think.

What had she done?

She had brought this bracelet into Camelot. Into the city.

He leaned over the bed. It could be so easy. He put his hands around her throat and sought the power to squeeze. Each time he blinked, he felt that opening his eyes was even more impossible than before.

But no, she was asleep. The Knights of Medhir would kill her too. Whatever was in store for Camelot, could get rid of her just as easily.

Besides… It wasn’t Morgana’s bracelet, it belonged to Morgause. But Morgana had received her letter.

What should he do?

He let go of her neck suddenly and stepped back. He couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t. Despite everything the dragon said, he had to believe that she wasn’t evil. She was just hurt, wounded.

His hand trailed down along her arm and rested on the bracelet. The bracelet almost seemed to hum.

The closer he got with his hand, the more a magical force was trying to push him back. He tried not to blink, because each time he closed his eyes, he felt as if he could fall asleep completely. He took a deep breath and took the bracelet from her arm.

He finally understood what it did.

It stuttered momentarily but continued to shine. He turned the thing around. At once, Morgana’s brows furrowed together and she was unrestful, though still very much asleep. Merlin gulped and felt himself slipping away.

Before keeling over, he mashed the bracelet’s stone against the stone floor and gave in to the darkness, collapsing against the tiles.

  
**\-----99 Arthur-----**

Leon hadn’t been able to stay awake after all. Arthur shoved Leon to the side of the hall with his boot and pushed forward to keep him safe. There was only one Knight in front of him and Arthur felt confident that he could handle it. Three were now completely destroyed, reduced to nothing but a heap of ashes.

But before Arthur could rejoice, the three other Knights appeared behind the one he was facing. They were bloodied and Arthur didn’t know who it belonged to, nor did he want to. He thought about Kay and clenched his jaw. He felt his energy slowly returning to him and gripped the sword handle with both hands. He ducked under his attacker’s swing and struck upwards, right into the gut of the fourth Knight, who disappeared in a smoky cloud of ashes all around him.

It was through those ashes that he saw Morgause coming up the stairs. He swiftly turned back around the corner and collected himself. He felt that sleep was fading from his system. Perhaps it was the fact that this sword felt so good in his hands, or perhaps the Knights had an effect on him.

The three black clad figures turned the corner at once and Arthur stumbled several steps backwards in surprise. He bumped into someone and for a moment his heart stopped.

“Arthur.” It was Merlin’s voice, spoken almost into his ear.

Relief washed over him. “Stay back,” he urged. “Morgause is coming.”

“Take a deep breath,” Merlin said from behind him. Merlin’s hand came up to squeeze his shoulder. At once Arthur understood.

He took a deep breath and held it to himself. The next moment everything stopped, all sounds and all temperature seemed to disappear at once. There was a lot of nothing around them.

The Knights of Medhir were stopped too, their swords raised in unison to attack Arthur all at once.

Arthur stepped forward and with three quick stabs pierced the swords straight through their heavy armor, right where their hearts should be. He looked at Merlin who nodded at him and lifted a hand towards the window at the end of the corridor. Arthur followed his gesture and saw he was pointing at the tower with the alarm bells. Arthur shook his head, they could never reach that in time. His breath would run out. Merlin’s fingers gripped around something in the air and he pulled it down, his eyes blazing gold. Nothing happened.

Arthur wanted to speak but Merlin was already yanking him back into the room with Uther and Morgana. The door to the hallway was pushed closed quietly.

Slowly everything started moving and Arthur heard the same gushing sound as the last of the Knights of Medhir disappeared into nothingness. In the distance the alarm bells sounded and Arthur spun to look at Merlin, who grinned sheepishly.

Just as Arthur wanted to speak, Merlin held up a hand. There were footsteps right outside the door. He knew it was Morgause.

Then trumpets sounded along with the alarm bells. Arthur looked up. Did that mean Kay was still alive? Merlin held out a finger in front of his mouth.

They both held their breaths for what seemed like an eternity.

At last the doorknob opened. Merlin stepped aside as Arthur lifted his sword. The door pushed open slowly and Arthur poised his feet.

That was until they saw Leon’s sleepy face looking in.

“Leon!” Arthur said with delight. “Did you see anyone in the hallway?” His priority had to be Morgause.

“No, everyone is just waking up,” Leon answered.

“I need you to check and be sure. Wake up the guards, have them search the castle.”

Leon nodded and eyed the sleeping figures on the bed. “Are they safe?”

“Yes,” Merlin said. “They will wake up soon.”

Leon disappeared and left them to stare at each other in unrestrained relief and warmth.

“Merlin, I need you to take this. I don’t know where, but I can’t be seen with it. It doesn’t belong here.”

Merlin smiled at him oddly. “It’s yours, Arthur.”

He shook his head. “I can’t explain what it’s doing here. The other knights, they saw it.” He realized with a gulp that most of them were dead by now. But not Kay. And Kay had certainly had strong feelings about it. “This is not the right time.” He offered it to Merlin, holding it up with two hands.

Merlin took it and pressed his lips together. He frowned and nodded. Then left wordlessly, stepping out of the door. The alarm bells sounded again and Arthur began to hear stirring in the hallways; voices calling out to other people asking in some panic what was going on.

Arthur saw that his father was coming to himself and rushed over.

“Father! You are safe!”

“Safe? What happened?” Uther sat upright and looked beside him. “Morgana?”

Morgana woke up as well and seemed shocked to lie close to Uther. She pushed herself away from him and turned her back, placing her feet on the ground.

“There was a sleeping spell, everyone was caught in it.”

“Idirsholas?” Uther asked, rubbing his face and pushing himself upright.

“We’ve destroyed the Knights of Medhir, father. Idirsholas has fallen.” He decided to leave Morgause out of it for now. They were both still very tired.

“Everything’s alright, Morgana. You’re safe now,” Arthur said and turned to his father. “We all are.”

A scream was heard and something swooped past the window. Something large. Arthur rushed over to the window to look and his eyes went wide.

It was a dragon.

  
***


	7. The Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin set out to find the dragonlord, who is the last person who can help against the attack of the Great Dragon. Merlin needs to come to terms with who Balinor is and Arthur faces some hard decisions. Merlin and Arthur need each other's full support, as equals, now more than ever.

  
**\-----100 Morgana-----**

Her visions had come true. And the reality was even worse than she had ever imagined. The amount of people brought to Gaius’ workshop had quickly exceeded its capacity, and so makeshift beds had been arranged on all the tables in the banquet hall, which now functioned as an infirmary. Both dead and dying people were brought to them day and night. Their care continued around the clock.

Morgana wore one of her simple black dresses, which wouldn’t be ruined by the stains of blood and burned skin, as she helped Gaius and Gwen tend to the wounded. They washed burns, cut away parts of clothing, and made sure that all the wounded people had something to eat and drink. After that, Gaius applied his strongest sleeping draughts, which sent them snoring almost instantly. Not all of them had made it through the first night.

The second day was worse. Several of the city’s towers had been attacked, the portcullis was nearly destroyed, and the guards suffered greatly on the parapets while trying to fire their crossbows. Their arrows were of little avail. The dragon’s armor was thick, and even the sturdiest crossbow bolts didn’t harm it. The defending soldiers and knights were starting to panic.

No one had been prepared for it. Arthur had looked pale and shocked. Most people had thought that the age of dragons was long over, and yet the largest beast anyone had ever seen now tore through the skies above the citadel, setting flame to it. The shock everyone experienced was palpable. Everyone’s except Uther’s.

The king had retreated to one of the inner chambers, which did not have any windows, on the first evening of the attack. He had ordered his bed brought there and had slept there. It had instilled fear in many soldiers and many of the younger knights as to what was to come. Morgana thought the display was disgusting and cowardly. And she nearly reveled in it, if it didn’t mean that everyone around her suffered deep petrification and sleepless nights.

Morgana hadn’t slept for more than a few hours. She had started with looking after Kay, who had been wounded by the Knights of Medhir. They hadn’t even had a moment’s rest before the dragon had begun to attack them all.

Leon, who had only suffered minor scratches, had given a brief summary in the council chambers detailing how the Knights of Medhir had targeted her, and to the king that Morgause had been behind it all. At the last moment, Arthur had saved them all. Arthur had looked so pleased that she was unharmed. If the Knights of Medhir would have gotten through to the room, they would have been killed. Both her and Uther.

Both her and Uther. Leon’s words.

And on top of that the bracelet was broken in two. The jewel was scattered in shards on the stone. Whatever it had been for, Morgause had probably taken it back upon understanding that Morgana wasn’t willing to comply to her every move. She could almost taste Morgause’s words: ‘Not good enough, Morgana.’

It still made her feel angry. And cold and abandoned. The one person who had shown her the shape of her desires, her very own sister, if that part was true, who had flirted with the notion that Morgana could be a powerful sorceress, had taken back her gift, the one thing which connected her to an outside world full of strange and extraordinary magic.

Morgana couldn’t remember how it had happened. She had fallen asleep in the middle of the day. She hadn’t even realized that anything was going on. Her sleep was so deep, apparently, that someone had carried her up to one of the guest rooms and laid her down next to Uther, of all people.

She shrugged it away. It didn’t matter compared to the problems at hand. If she had felt better and stronger these past few days by working hard and helping victims, she paid it little mind. Her magic was inside of her, coiled and contained. She would not let it out easily. It felt better within her than it had in a long time. She would do this without someone trying to tell her how to make her choices in life. No one seemed to regard her feelings in the matters of state, power, and propriety. Not Uther, and certainly not Morgause.

And on top of that, Morgause had failed. Uther was still very much alive and practically unfazed after the attack by the Knights of Medhir. They had, after all, only destroyed some minor property and defeated ‘only’ three of Camelot’s greatest knights. The dragon was a far bigger problem, and Uther was rattled at last. But right now Morgana realized that she couldn’t even care about that. The suffering of the people, right here, right now, was far more pressing. She felt useful at last by bringing them water and fresh linen. The people looked her in the eyes directly and thanked her. Some didn’t seem to know who she was. Whether they were delirious, ignorant, or simply didn’t recognize her in her normal clothes, she couldn’t tell. But she reveled in it. They grabbed her arm or called her strange names to get her attention. They were at their wit’s end, so she forgave them instantly. They were looking at her. They needed her. In a cruel twist, the people’s suffering had made her feel better than she had felt in years.

She looked at Gwen, at her bloodied hands and her dirty face. She was lifting a basket with dirty clothes above her head as she squeezed between the volunteers. Morgana took it from her, stretching her arms up. She missed the confidence her bracelet gave her. She felt like she could really use it at a time like this. She carried the basket out of the room and to the waste pile which was building up close to the door to the training grounds. No one dared to go outside, not during the day and even less during the night.

Morgana stayed clear from the windows, but she ventured a look through one of the clear stained glass panels. The dragon swooped past and stared down at the city, trying to find innocent citizens to attack. It swooped around again and at once its fierce golden eye glared at her.

The dragon roared.

Morgana panicked, her head was filled with her visions, all at once. The sensation overwhelmed her enough for her to fall away from the window. She couldn’t see what was happening in front of her, only the fire raining down, the same as in her dreams. If there was anything else, she couldn’t see it, she only saw her visions.

She screamed.

  
**\-----101 Merlin-----**

Merlin jumped and pushed Morgana out of the way from the window, just in time to avoid the blast that came through the window with a force that sent glass scattering everywhere. They were both covered in shards and fragments. Merlin sat up, his ears ringing from the sound of the blast. He felt dizzy from having ran so fast and his elbow hurt from hitting the ground. The quivers he was carrying lay scattered.

“Morgana?” he called out to her. “Morgana?!”

She came to only moments later, looking pale and terrified. There was no color on her lips. Her body trembled uncontrollably. “What…?”

The flapping beat of large wings was heard from the gap where the window once was.

“Are you alright?” He pulled the collection of quivers with bolts back onto his shoulder.

“It attacked.”

“I saw you bathed in a terrible light. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. The dragon is attacking the castle. Arthur is outside, the knights are trying to bring it down with their flaming bolts now.” He slowly helped her to her feet, noting how out of order her hair was, and how dazed she looked. Everything was in chaos.

“My visions, Merlin…” She grabbed his forearm and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “This is it. The fire, it keeps coming back. Please, make it stop!”

“Ow!” Morgana’s hand was gripping his arm hard. “I don’t know how to make it stop. All we have are sleeping potions…” He didn’t want to consider it.

“Anything but what I’m feeling now. I didn’t suffer like this for the longest time. The bracelet—I don’t have it anymore.”

Merlin sighed and helped her to her feet. “It wasn’t helping you, my lady. It leeched your powers, it stole them away.”

“What?” Her large green eyes looked shocked.

Merlin shook his head. He could hardly believe he had stood beside her, with his hands at her throat, ready to squeeze the life from her for what she had done to Camelot. Except for the fact that she hadn’t done anything, not consciously. He had to believe that. But he couldn’t tell her how he knew all of this. “Look at you now, you are much more powerful than before. The bracelet took it away from you. Of course, you have slept well, but you are _meant_ to see these things, Morgana. I’m sure of it.”

“Why am I meant to suffer like this?” she asked sardonically.

The castle shook to its foundations. It was the same rumbling sound as when Halig had played his music. Merlin steadied himself against a wall. At various places the torches in their sconces flickered in protest.

He shook his head and picked the quivers up, placing the arrows back into them. “Would you rather be asleep?” He raised his eyebrows. 

She knitted her brow and at once didn’t look so certain at all. She lowered her gaze and looked at her hands. They were stained with the blood of various patients and with soot. “No, I need to help the people here.”

“Then do that.”

She jutted her chin. “Yes, I will. If I can’t stop it, I’ll face it.” She balled her fists.

He looked at her and nodded. He wondered at her resilience and whether she was really convinced of her own words.

“Merlin?!” Arthur called.

Merlin bowed to Morgana before he turned around and ran up the stairs of the tower. He climbed as fast as his feet could take him and met Arthur outside on the parapets. The knights were gathered there with their heavy crossbows.

“Where were you?” Arthur snapped.

“The dragon attacked a window. I couldn’t pass,” he fabricated. They would find the glass downstairs to support his story. He shrugged the quivers from his shoulder and handed them out. He looked out over the city and gulped down the lump in his throat. Throughout the city several homes were on fire. The gatehouse was fully ablaze. The alarm bells had stopped running the previous day. The whole city was alert and at wit’s end. And there were so many deaths. 

Arthur craned his neck and Merlin followed his gaze. Overhead he saw the dragon flying. He looked like a great black smudge against the night’s sky. Merlin knew that Arthur wanted the dragon dead. He was filled with immense guilt for what he had done. Against the promise for his mother’s life, the dragon had told him what he had needed to do, and he hadn’t even done it properly. There hadn’t been any other choice but to free him. The treated sword, forged in the dragon’s breath, had sliced clean through the dragon’s chain. A grumbling warning had followed that none other than Arthur were allowed to wield the sword in combat. So, Merlin had wedged it into the stones of the dragon’s perch. No one would ever take it away from there. Not unless he willed it.

Leon brushed past him with his crossbow and shook him back to reality. The knights aligned themselves and Rodney walked past them with a torch to light the bolts. Rodney was now without a knight as his master, Merlin reflected. And the other young knights were missing their fellow men to look up to. Sir Caridoc and Sir Owain hadn’t even been properly buried yet. Sir Bedivere’s loss had not yet been mourned. The castle had awoken into an apocalypse of destruction from the skies. And now it was coming for them.

Merlin grit his teeth and grabbed a spear as he saw the dragon descend and steer its body towards them. He braced himself against the stone, glaring at the beast. After all his words about the unification of Albion, restoration of magic, and bringing about the dawn of a new world, his attacks were securing the opposite effect. Merlin was sick with dread.

He wasn’t certain whether the Knights of Medhir had come to kill Uther, or if they had been after Morgana. He only knew that one of the two people in the room had been their target. If he would have to guess, he would say that Uther had been the target. If Merlin hadn’t destroyed the bracelet, but had killed Morgana instead, he would have never woken up in time to defend the king. He would not have been able to help Arthur defeat the Knights of Medhir. Morgana would have died alongside Uther. It would have been exactly what the dragon wanted.

Should he have killed her? The dragon might have been freed without doing any of this. Over a hundred people had died already. The city was brought to a full halt by the threat of the raging fires from above. Smoke and ash filled the streets, and the people cowered indoors. How many more were going to die?

 _No_ , Merlin thought. _No, you’re not getting what you want_. He glared at the dragon, willing it to understand.

There was goodness in Morgana. Merlin saw it with each passing moment. He wouldn’t give in, not until he had proof that she was lost to reason. And she wasn’t. And Uther’s reign would end, but not this way. If Merlin wanted to maintain Arthur’s trust, if he wanted to ever, at any point in time, be accepted in the halls of the castle, he would have to protect Uther as well. If he failed, then who would ever trust him again?

The dragon opened his mouth and a blazing hearth of fire was visible at the back of its throat. Arthur steadied the men to wait before firing. He told them to aim at the heart, throat, and eyes. Anything that looked soft or penetrable. The dragon was getting close now, the flap of his wings steadied. One of the men nearly faltered from fear, but Arthur went to stand beside the trembling man and yelled at them to wait. Then he yelled, “Now!”

The bolts were released as one attack, just when the dragon reached them. Everyone ducked behind the stones as the fire roared over their heads. Merlin’s heart was in his throat as he ducked down and he felt the heat singe his skin and burn at his cheeks. Without thinking he ran down the battlements in the direction of the beast. He turned the corner and ran as fast as he could. He launched the spear, aided by magic, at the beast’s side.

The dragon circled in the sky and glowered down at him. “Do not imagine that your petty magic can harm me!”

“Why are you doing this?!” Merlin demanded. “You're killing innocent people!”

The dragon laughed and soared up and away into the sky. He didn’t care. The dragon didn’t care at all!

Merlin bit back the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. For all that the Great Dragon had done for him, all the words of encouragement he had given, he now felt betrayed. He had offered him a spell against Cornelius Sigan, bathed him in his breath in order to protect Arthur and the kingdom, and he had created the very sword that Arthur was meant to use. What good was all of this? It wasn’t another riddle. It was too cruel. People were dying! The city was burning.

He held his breath and clenched his fists. He should be able to do _something_. _Anything_! He was desperate to do anything he could to help. The Great Dragon would not get his way!

Merlin tried to feel for this deepest magic, unfurling itself from its prison deep inside of him, which he kept at bay with the utmost care each day of his life. In the distance he heard the knights bustling. They were far away enough. He felt his magic come out and fuel the spell. The feeling of it was overpowering, it took his breath away and he panicked for a moment, knowing that he needed to channel it. He clenched his teeth and he pushed it down to something less overwhelming, formed it, shaped it. “ _Tídrénas, tídrénas, tídrénas._ ” It enveloped him, tingled over his skin and he felt the power flow out of him. His cheeks were wet. He had no idea when he had started to cry.

The dragon disappeared completely into the black clouds rolling in overhead and the knights, some distance back, were whooping with delight. Merlin wiped his cheeks and returned to them, his expression grim. When Arthur saw him, the elated smile faltered from his face. The knights collected their crossbows and bolts, and started heading down.

“The dragon is gone for now. Take your rest, my friends. We don’t know when we will need you again,” Arthur said to the men. “You were all very brave today, this will not be forgotten!” He said several quiet words to Sir Leon and patted him on the shoulder.

Merlin looked out over the smoking parts of the city. He eyed one of the castle towers from which a dark whirl of smoke was climbing towards the sky.

“Don’t stand there, moping around,” Arthur said. It was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Make yourself useful.”

Thick drops of icy cold rain stole their view over the city away in a sudden downpour. “I just did,” Merlin said meekly, so only Arthur could hear.

Rodney’s torch went out and so did the two sconces at the door opening. The men were surrounded by the darkness of night and made quick work of packing and getting out of the rain. Arthur was the only one not moving. Merlin saw the inner conflict in his eyes. At last, Arthur gave him a small nod and turned back inside.

The men had descended and only the two of them remained in the door opening to the battlements.

“What is it, Merlin?” Arthur demanded. His tone was short.

Merlin gulped. He was afraid Arthur knew the part he played in the dragon’s release. No matter what Arthur told him in private, he was certain that he would not be forgiven for this.

“You know where it comes from,” Arthur concluded and came to stand right in front of him.

He shivered, the cold rain had seeped through his clothes and it was cold. He didn’t answer him.

Arthur shook his head at him. “All the dragons were supposed to be destroyed. If there was ever a time _not_ to keep things from me, this would be it, Merlin,” Arthur said. He was beyond exhaustion and wanted to rest like everyone else. There was something Merlin saw in his eyes. It was the same look the prince had worn each time he had told Merlin how all magic was evil.

Merlin opened his mouth and looked at Arthur, feeling desperate. “Your father…” his voice threatened to break. “He had it locked up, in the caves below the city.”

Arthur’s eyes went wide. “Right here?”

Merlin raised his hands in apology, even though he wasn’t even apologizing yet. “Dragons are noble creatures. Not what you see now. This isn’t right.”

Arthur’s look was fierce. “I’m not going to spare its life, Merlin. Not this one. Not after all it has done.”

“We cannot harm the dragon, he is too powerful!”

“Then I will summon a council immediately. There has to be something!”

Merlin bit his lip. The dragon would not rest until he had his revenge. As long as Uther was alive, he would continue to attack. But telling Arthur this was impossible. The prince would never sacrifice his father for the kingdom, he would sooner offer up himself. And Merlin had already made a pact on his mother’s life. In that case too, Uther’s life would have been forfeit. How could he explain to Arthur the bargain he had made, which had caused so much death, and that it might have been to no avail at all?

“Merlin?”

He looked up to see Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t give up.”

Whether he said it for Merlin’s courage, or his own, Merlin couldn’t tell. He nodded in answer and sighed. “I’ll get Gaius.”

  
***

“There’s nothing I can do,” Merlin said to Gaius. They were in the workshop and Gaius had just been ready to get to bed after a long day of tending to the sick. “My magic is no good. It doesn’t work.”

Gaius slipped back into his shoes and pulled a blanket around his shoulders. He looked worn. “Dragons aren’t monsters. They are creatures of wonder and magic. You must realize that they are immune to your powers.”

Merlin frowned and shook his head. It wasn’t good enough. “It’s all my fault, Gaius.” The irony was not lost on him that the number of people he had accused Gaius of allowing to die would now be matched or surpassed by the trail of dead following in the dragon’s wake.

“You cannot blame yourself, Merlin.”

“Yes, I can! I asked him how to release the curse over the city. He made me swear on my mother’s life.” He palmed his eyes, trying to force the tears back inside. A gentle arm folded around his shoulder. He felt relieved and unworthy at once.

Gaius sighed, and stood up. “My boy, you made that promise so that you could save the prince and the king. Not just that, but you spared Morgana’s life too. Do you really think that Morgause would have left anyone alive who might pose resistance to her overthrowing this kingdom? She would not have stopped.”

Merlin looked down. “How could I pretend that my mother’s life is worth equal measure to all the people who died?”

“That is not what you bargained for. That was against the dragon’s freedom, Merlin. Do not confuse the two,” the old man said with a tired voice.

“Morgana tried to tell me. She tried to warn me that this would happen, even if she did not understand what it meant. How could I still be this unprepared?”

Gaius leaned his hands on Merlin’s shoulders and looked at him squarely. “It is the dragon who is killing people, Merlin. Not you. You must not forget that.”

Merlin shook his head. “But Gaius, if the dragon believes in prophecy, what he’s doing doesn’t make sense. There must be more to it.”

Gaius frowned at Merlin. “Perhaps there is.”

“He attacked Morgana directly today. She doesn’t even understand her own part in this.”

The old physician raised an eyebrow. “If we survive this attack... then perhaps it is time for me to speak with her.”

  
**\-----102 Arthur-----**

The midnight council consisted of the king, Holden, Geoffrey, Gaius, Lady Morgana, Sir Leon, and himself. They were situated in the War Room, which had no windows, and they were served only by Merlin and George. All the other knights had been sent off to rest so that they might defend the city in the morning.

Arthur still wore his full armor from that day’s battle. He barely had time to wash and sleep between their return from Idirsholas and defending the city. By now his shoulders were sore from the weight of the cuirass pressing on his chainmail.

Arthur did his best not to overhear Holden’s whispered report to his father. The men were speaking of cowardice now that Uther had locked himself away. Instead of riding out to face the dragon the king had sent footsoldiers and untrained knights. Apart from losing three of their most noble knights, they now had seventeen more burials to prepare.

He closed his eyes momentarily. How was he supposed to face this creature bravely if his father had no idea what to do either? Instead, he focused on the report before him, reading it aloud to the participants. “The dead number 97 men, 54 women, a further 36 women and children are unaccounted for. Most of last night's fires are now out. The castle walls, the Western section in particular, are near collapse, I could go on.” He couldn’t hide the desperation from his voice.

“Do we have any further idea on how the beast escaped?” the king asked. His father had admitted to keeping the dragon under the city with almost no pause. He hadn’t wanted to tell Arthur until it became relevant. Arthur was still seething. And now, his father seemed more intent on defending his seemingly perfect prison rather than own up to the fact that the dragon had been here all along; a menace to their people. Uther had once accused Halig of this very same crime and had sent him packing.

Leon spoke when Arthur remained silent, “I regret to say, sire, we don't.”

Uther stood up and walked around the war room. “There must be some way to rid ourselves of this aberration. Gaius?”

The old physician looked straight at the king, and to his credit announced without faltering, “We need a dragonlord, sire.”

 _A dragonlord?_ Arthur thought. They didn’t exist anymore. At least, he had been informed of that from his earliest days. The kingdom was now safe, his father had assured him. And he had felt protected.

Uther merely lifted a brow. “You know very well that's not an option.”

“Sire,” Gaius began, “what if...there was, indeed, one last dragonlord left?”

Arthur shifted to look at his father, who seemed surprised. There was a twitch in his eyebrow which Arthur knew marked true surprise. He regarded Merlin from the corner of his eyes, but there was nothing to read on his expression. He wished Merlin could give him some kind of indication whether this was a good thing or not. The very thought of a dragonlord still being alive filled him with a dread that he hadn’t known since the time he was afraid of sleeping in the dark.

“That's not possible,” Uther said.

“But if there was…” Gaius offered. It opened the pathway to some kind of possibility, Arthur realized.

Everyone remained quiet. Uther put his hands down on the table and leaned forward, eyeing Gaius. “What are you saying?”

“It may just be rumour.” Gaius shrugged.

“Go on.” Uther was beginning to get impatient.

“I'm not exactly sure, but I think his name is Balinor.”

Arthur leaned back and observed his father. He couldn’t recall if he had ever heard this name when the scary tales of the dragonlords had been told at his bedside. It tugged something deep from him, something protective. At all cost, the city needed to be defended against them. Calling one now to help was absurd. And yet, if Gaius had mentioned it, it might be the only option they had left. A man who could control dragons had to have formidable magic.

“Not him.” Uther shook his head. “So, it wasn’t just a rumor. He escaped after all.” The hatred in his father’s voice could not be missed. Apparently, Uther knew exactly who he needed to ask for help and was hating it. “How I have longed to kill him,” the king continued. “It is poison in my blood to hear that he lives.”

Morgana turned her gaze away from the king and spoke to Gaius instead, “Where does he live?” she asked. At once the atmosphere in the room changed. Her voice was gentle and the perceived impossibility of asking Balinor a moment ago was suddenly replaced with hope.

Gaius kept his attention on the king, however, and answered, “He was last seen in Cenred's kingdom in the border town of Enged, but that was many years ago.”

Arthur saw how miserable it made his father, who had thought that all these men were now wiped out. Nevertheless, destruction by the dragon’s power was certainly the worse option. So, he set his jaw and made his decision. “If this man still exists, then it is our duty to find him.”

“What is the situation with Essetir, my lord?” Leon asked the king.

Holden put his elbows on the table and addressed the council, “One of our messengers has returned at last. He was escorted by two Sarmatian men. He brings news from King Rodor. It seems that Cenred is league with the sorceress Morgause. They have already led a victorious battle against the Angles. Morgause herself was seen moving towards the borders of Camelot, before disappearing from sight about a week ago.

Arthur frowned and clenched his fist. Morgause had come into Camelot to raise the Knights of Medhir. He hadn’t told his father yet because fighting the dragon had taken immediate priority, and because he didn’t want immediate war with Cenred.

“Arthur?” His father regarded him sharply.

He unclenched his fist and sighed. He couldn’t say it now, it was of no consequence. Everyone was safe. And he couldn’t change the story now, without explaining how magic had helped him solve it. “This account from Rodor matches what the Sarmatians told me last week. Cenred is amassing an army. The battles seem to spill over our borders, or perhaps they already have. I will ride out as soon as I can.”

At last the king sat down again. “Our treaty with Cenred no longer holds. We are at war. If they discover you beyond our border, they would kill you.”

Arthur nodded. “Then I will go alone.”

Uther shook his head. “No.”

“That way I will not be detected,” Arthur argued.

“No, Arthur. It is too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than staying here? I'll not stand by and watch my men die when I have the chance to save them.” He stood up this time.

“I have given you my orders.” Uther glared at him.

There was nothing else to be done. If anyone sought out the help of a dragonlord, it should be him. He would do his best to convince a former enemy to fight on their behalf. It would be a hard task, but not harder than watching the city fall without being able to help. “Do not make this a test of wills, Father.” He was determined.

“I'm not talking to you as a father, I'm talking to you as a king!”

He had heard those words before. However his mind was set. “I will ride first thing in the morning.”

Holden folded his arms and looked displeased.

“My concern is for you,” Uther said.

Arthur doubted that. Uther’s concern was for Uther. If he would have the opportunity, he would have Arthur hide with him. But it was not in Arthur’s nature to do so, nor was it to shy away from taking the one shot that could save them. “Mine is for Camelot,” he answered and got up. “I'll send word when I've found him.”

The way that Uther nodded filled Arthur with dread. If Uther was willing to accept the help of a magic user, it meant that the dragon’s threat was deeper than he had presumed so far. In fact, his father seemed very out of sorts. “If we bring him here, I need to know whether I should present him before the court.”

“No,” Uther said, “we will receive him in private.”

“Then I will need your word that he will be safe,” Arthur said and squared his shoulders. This time he noticed Merlin glancing in his direction. “If he agrees to protect Camelot, he should be free to do as he pleases.”

“I will make no such promises, Arthur! These people are not to be trusted! All I will concede to is doing what I must to protect Camelot’s safety!” Uther slammed his fist on the table.

Arthur knew that his father was out of options if he resorted to physically expressing himself. He noticed Leon’s and Geoffrey’s curious looks in his direction. “What would you expect me to offer a man in exchange for saving all of our lives?”

“The usual,” Morgana spoke up at last. “Money or power. Uther, you know this man. Would he be swayed?”

Holden shot her an angry glance. “You should not presume to know the will of men.”

Morgana smiled at him unfazed and said, “On the contrary. The will of women is what men don’t understand. Men vary little. Uther, if you have nothing to offer, that’s what you will get in return. That is certain.”

Uther remained quiet. Arthur regarded his father and sighed. “Then I will offer what I must. Within reason. Merlin, you’re to help with preparations.”

Merlin bowed to Uther and followed Arthur out.

They fell into step and Merlin’s shoulder bumped his briefly. It was comforting in their hopeless predicament. But before they could say anything to each other in confidence, Morgana was behind them.

“Arthur?”

Merlin already slipped into Arthur’s room and Arthur held the door open to her. “What’s on your mind, Morgana? I hope you will have something encouraging to say, otherwise you had better speak with someone else.”

She followed him into the room and sat down in the chair at the dining table which Merlin drew up for her. “Don’t start snapping at me. We’re all beyond exhaustion.”

“Yes, and you are keeping me from much needed sleep.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for one of the goblets on the table and held it out for Merlin to fill. He did so carefully. “Just a little bit,” she said and turned to Arthur again, who sagged into the dining chair closest to the fire, trying to get comfortable in his armor. The room was still cool and probably wouldn’t properly heat up for the night. “Did you mean what you said in there?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “Which part was that?”

“The part where you would grant a sorcerer clemency if they defended the city,” she said as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and took a sip.

Arthur sighed. He didn’t know how to approach this with her. Morgana was keen and might see through his lies. Her opinions were often uncompromising, like his father’s, but she also saw sense. Perhaps he could approach this tactfully. His brain was refusing to work with him though. “What you said rang true. I cannot talk to this man without at least offering him safety when he comes here. Otherwise, why would he even consider my words?”

Morgana eyed him up and down. “What about Cenred and Morgause?”

Arthur frowned. “No one is going to look at a single traveler on horseback. I have to take the risk.” In the other corner of the room, Merlin was going through the bags they had recently brought back from their trip to Idirsholas and checking what they would bring and what not.

“Arthur,” she said, “perhaps you could reason with Morgause, if you do see her. Although Uther has waived our treaty, it might not be Camelot they are after.”

Arthur stared at Merlin’s hands at work momentarily before looking up at her. “What? Negotiate? You must be out of your mind!”

Morgana sighed. “I just don’t think she is evil. You said yourself that… it didn’t have to be.” Her eyes strayed to Merlin briefly.

“Don’t worry about him. I trust him,” Arthur said quietly. “But you take risks saying that, you realize that?” He didn’t answer her question about Morgause. He didn’t believe that Morgause was good, not if she sent the Knights of Medhir to them. It wasn’t something he wanted to tell Morgana, not now. If she felt moderate towards magic, then she could be his largest aid in swaying the people to eventually stop their paranoid persecutions and focus on harmony instead. She could not know the truth about Morgause. He needed her on his side.

“I realize it each time, Arthur. And this is the perfect moment to prove it. Bring that man here, and I would say that any cost he demands must be validated.”

“If he _does_ decide to help us.” Arthur sighed and leaned back. “He can ask only what I am able to give. Nothing more.” If the man helped them, then the citizens owed magic their lives. And they should know about it. They would be the same as himself, whose very existence had depended on it. “This might bring about a large change, Morgana.”

“Yes,” she said. She glanced at the water in her cup and added, “Perhaps the druids would not be hunted so much either.”

“You still think about that boy we rescued?”

Her green eyes set on him sharply. “Of course. What sort of life was he given by us? Did we not let out a hare in the field, where the hunting dogs could get to him?”

“The biggest problem,” Arthur said, “is that King Godwyn was right. They do not bend the knee, and they don’t want to be united with any other people.”

Morgana nodded absentmindedly.

“My priority is to protect the people against the dragon. I will not rest until it is defeated.” He stood up and Morgana followed his gesture. She finished the cup of wine and set it down on the table.

“I understand your urgency. This day, I have bathed and bandaged the sick, and I would not see another like it.”

“The people will look up to you for it, Lady Morgana,” Arthur said, smiling at her. He played with his mother’s ring on his index finger. “I only hope we can be successful.”

“I wish you luck on your journey, you will need it.”

“You do not believe we can find him?”

“I do not believe that you will be the one to find him. He will be an old man, Arthur.”

He frowned at her. Her comment quickly reduced any faith he had in their journey. Perhaps they wouldn’t find him at all. “I have to try,” he said.

“You will be great, Arthur,” she assured him. And with those words she swept out of the room and left.

Arthur closed the door behind her and locked it shut with an audible click. Merlin turned his head and looked generally confused. Arthur stalked toward him, took the flask out of his hands, set it aside, and pulled him into a hug.

Without hesitation, without words, Merlin hugged him back. They stood like that for some minutes. Arthur wasn’t so certain that they would succeed this time. He had become less certain about many things over time, and found himself questioning what he would and wouldn’t be able to do. This time he was traveling to find an old enemy and somehow convince him to help them.

“Stay tonight,” he breathed into Merlin’s hair.

“I can’t, Arthur.” Merlin’s hand gripped his shirt. “The dragon might return. I wouldn’t have any excuse to be here… in case the guards come to call you.”

“No, it’s perfect. If the dragon shows, you will need to put my armor on instantly. I can’t afford for you to go to Gaius.”

Merlin let go and nodded to him. He turned towards the servant’s exit, to where the ante-chamber was. It essentially had room for a dresser, a bed, and a nightstand. Stored in the room were some boxes and a stuffed mattress. Merlin didn’t know how old the mattress was. A narrow window on one side was all the light that was provided. “I’ll just fix this up then.”

Arthur put his hands on his hips. “As long as you’re only pretending to be sleeping in there,” he said with a warning tone to his voice. Merlin looked at him from the corner of his eyes and Arthur saw, rather than heard him chuckle.

“Arthur?” came his voice a moment later.

“Hm?”

“She’s right. She often is. You will be great, I know it.”

  
**\-----103 Merlin-----**

Merlin woke up early the next day. They hadn’t been called. That meant the dragon hadn’t come back yet. He pushed himself up to a sitting position, supported by the large amount of pillows on the prince’s bed. Arthur felt him stir and came to lean against his side, a heavy arm dropped around Merlin’s chest, holding on briefly before Arthur succumbed to sleep once more. Arthur’s ring felt cold against his skin.

Merlin resisted going back to sleep and set to pondering instead. He combed his fingers through Arthur’s hair and looked down at him. He loved the smell of Arthur’s hair, and the way it fell over his forehead. He followed the line of his brow, the bridge of his nose, and observed how his mouth was nearly pushed against his ribs.

He thought about all of Morgana’s words, and what sort of truth they might hold. Her parting words often held something of value, something to look for. This time, he didn’t know whether there was anything that she had given them. He pondered about what the dragon had said. He had given him the right information to remove the spell over the city. If Morgana had died, then the spell wouldn’t have held. However, breaking the bracelet had done the trick. He wasn’t certain what to believe anymore. If Morgana hadn’t given them so many important words during their greatest time of need, then he wouldn’t be where he was. The dragon, who had been a certain ally and who knew his destiny, was now murdering everyone in his sights. Everything was backwards and he felt conflicted.

His thoughts inevitably spiraled back to the prophecy. It pushed him daily to give everything he had to give. Even now, when he really needed to sleep more, he would stay awake so he wouldn’t be caught in the prince’s bed. It pushed him, too, to enjoy the days he did have. It weighed on him. Every day he thought about whether he would change anything in order to prevent what was inevitably laid out before them.

His biggest problem was that he had never heard exactly what the words of the prophecy were. If they were like a spell, he would have to know the words exactly. The only one who certainly knew of the prophecy was the Great Dragon, and well, he would presume that it was impossible  to ask him now. Then there were several druids who knew his druid name. But he wasn’t certain if that meant that they knew the prophecy too, or whether they were simply taught who he was—or would be.

He put his nose against Arthur’s hair and tried to focus on how full of love he felt, rather than the emptiness that awaited him. He thought about the Birugderc, who had been corrupted after being unable to accept the inevitable truth. He would have to try harder, be more resilient. And perhaps there would be something that he _could_ do. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bleak as he thought.

“Who were the dragonlords?” Arthur asked against his chest, still drowsy.

Merlin kissed his hair and squirmed in the sheets, trying to get comfortable. “Gaius said they were once men who could talk to the dragons, tame them.”

“What happened to them?”

“Didn’t your father ever tell you?” he whispered. He simply got a grunt for a reply. “According to Gaius, Uther believed that the art of the dragonlord was too close to magic. So he had them all rounded up and slaughtered. One escaped.”

Arthur was quiet after that. Merlin felt him blink against his bare skin. He was afraid to touch upon the subject.

“Was Gaius the one who helped him escape?”

Merlin bit his lip. Arthur looked up at him and Merlin saw no anger there, no tenacious paranoia. “Yes,” he answered. “That’s why he hopes he is still alive.”

Arthur leaned up on an elbow and gave him a quick kiss with soft lips. “Let’s head out. Whatever crosses our path, we can manage, you and I.”

Merlin smiled at him.

  
***

“This is it,” Arthur said several hours later. He led Thorunn forward. “One more step and we’re in Cenred’s kingdom. This Balinor had better be worth it.” The prince was wearing a blue padded coat with a brown leather vest over it. He had a wool hat over his head and thick fur-lined gloves. Merlin had taken extra care not to dress him in anything with the Pendragon crest. He had double checked all of their bags, he had even dug through various storage boxes in Dennett’s stables to find a saddle pad without a royal seal.

They had left right after breakfast. Merlin had ran to get them ready and Arthur wasn’t quite satisfied about the time in which he had done it. The dragon hadn’t shown yet, but he had been anxious to be away before it might show up now that he wasn’t wearing any armor. Sir Leon had been put in charge of the defense against the dragon’s attacks for the duration of Arthur’s absence. He had proven himself a worthy fighter, and although he seemed to be taking the losses of his fellow knights quite hard, he had shown valor during the past nights, leading what seemed to be impossible battles.

It had been Galahad and Lancelot who had escorted the royal messenger, who had brought them Rodor’s news, back to the citadel. The two men had announced to Arthur that they would stay in the city and stay for some weeks to help. They had also offered to join the battles against the dragon. Arthur had accepted, as long as the knights felt comfortable fighting side by side. After all, the men did not know each other well yet.

As they continued down the unpaved road they had been following for the better part of two hours, Merlin noticed the hills increasingly sloping. The bare trees swayed in the wintry winds, and the moon was visible through the branches in the evening sky. They had left the flat marshes where the Sarmatians had set up camp. On the way to Essetir they had passed the camps, which they had seen stationed in the distance. Smoke rose from small fires, and their horses grazed in their quickly built penns.

“I would have expected more of Cenred’s armies,” he told Arthur.

“With these camps nearby? Not damn likely.”

Merlin urged Royse forward with his reins. “Do you think they leave such an impression?”

Arthur smirked. “Cenred probably thinks that we have paid the Sarmatians to protect our borders. They know how fierce they are. Even their women take up arms, or so I was told.”

Daylight was fading by the time they reached Engerd. It was a very small town set in a valley with perhaps fifteen small, richly deteriorated houses and a couple of farms stretching out over the hillsides. After they had stabled the horses, they found a very unhappy crowd in the inn.

The first thing that Merlin noticed was that nearly all the men were old. Two younger attendees were invalid; one of them was missing half a leg, and the other was entirely missing one of his ears. They looked up at Merlin and Arthur entering, and seemed to regard them with spite.

“Don’t say anything,” Merlin urged him with a whisper.

They took one of the tables in the corner, and Arthur pocketed his pouch of money. Arthur had clearly hoped that he could have made an impression, but the longer they sat there, the more eyes they felt on them. It made Merlin feel severely uncomfortable.

When the innkeeper came to take their order, the old man was practically glaring down at them.

“Two ale, and do you have a room?”

“Aye, I’ve got a room alright. But not for the likes of you.” The innkeeper was already turning away from them.

“Excuse me?” Arthur responded in a preposterously pompous tone.

Merlin winced.

The old man turned back to them. “You think you can just come in here after the conscription? Look at these men, they are here because they fulfilled their service. You are just cowards. The worst sort.”

Arthur seethed, but Merlin pushed against his foot under the table.

“We’re not from around here,” Merlin offered. He looked around and smiled. “We ride with the Sarmatians, in case you didn’t know. We are not for nor against King Cenred.”

“That’s a lie,” another man with a flat brown hat on his head said. “You don’t look like Sarmatians.”

The innkeeper spat on the ground. Arthur just blinked at Merlin.

“One of our horses, the feisty one. You will see it for yourself,” Merlin said confidently.

“I still say this reeks,” the man with the hat said, though he was more doubtful now.

“And I say that sounds about right,” a voice chimed in behind them. “If we had known you’d ride this way, Wart, we’d have made sure you’d get a good reception.”

At the name call, Arthur spun around indignantly. Merlin tried to suppress a grin. A large hand landed on Arthur’s, on _Wart’s_ , shoulder and Percival grinned down at them. He was joined by Lamorak.

Securing a room proved to be no issue after all. The men joined them at the small table and Merlin and Arthur had to push themselves against the wall, sitting opposite each other to make them all fit. It forced their legs to touch. Neither of them minded. To Merlin, it felt as if he was anchored in place, and that was good. The ale was very poorly made and Merlin struggled to drink more than a few sips from it. Meanwhile, the Sarmatian men eagerly listened to Arthur’s tale about the dragon.

“Have you had any word from Ealdor?” he asked the warriors some time later.

“Ealdor? That’s a way up north, isn’t it?” Percival asked Lamorak, who nodded. “Nothing special. That usually means good news.”

Merlin nodded and looked down.

“You’re worried about her?” Arthur asked. The other two men didn’t ask who ‘she’ was.

“Yes, of course. There are soldiers everywhere. And I haven’t had a reply from her in a long time. The last letter I sent was weeks ago.”

Lamorak tilted his head. “It could be that your letter to her didn’t arrive. The roads were very unsafe when we first arrived here. It should be better now.”

Merlin blinked. He hadn’t thought about that.

“But this man, Balinor,” Lamorak said. “We haven’t heard about him. I wouldn’t bother asking these guys over here. They generally don’t like youth, or war. They’re afraid of the sorceress.”

“So we’ve come to understand,” Arthur said. “Isn’t there anyone who can tell us?”

“Yeah,” Percival said. “There might be someone. You said it happened a long time ago, right?”

  
***

A woman older than the dawn of Albion opened the door. She was small with a thin layer of white hair left, and her skin was both wrinkled and downy, making her look soft. She regarded them kindly. “Young men, what has brought you back to our doorstep?”

Her name was Mirabelle and she was the mother of Asgerd, a fat man with a heavy limp. Percival and Lamorak had helped Asgerd with a task for coin the day before. Asgerd had three small children. His wife, whom they did not get to see, was nursing the youngest.

She was delighted to invite them back inside, and to have visitors from Camelot. She asked after her sister, Dunnlaith. Merlin smiled at the woman and told her that her sister was doing well, apart from having some sores on her leg. Mirabelle was a woman full of smiles, and she spared none at hearing the news.

Once the four guests were seated in the impossibly tiny home, Merlin on the floor beside Arthur, they posed the question about Balinor. They instantly saw their hospitality fade. Mirabelle’s expression turned into something unhappy.

“Please, there’s a very important reason why we need to find him. We have to ask him something,” Arthur pressed.

Mirabelle leaned forward and regarded Arthur seriously. “He did no good to this village. And he was unkind to my son. It’s… been many years since I saw him.”

Merlin felt Arthur beside him move forward in his seat. “Do you know where he lives?”

The old woman nodded. “You must travel through the Forest of Merendra to the foot of the Feorre Mountain. There you will find the cave where Balinor dwells.”

“But don’t get your hopes up,” Asgerd said, looking away into the hearth where the embers of a fire glowed.

“Why?” Merlin asked at last, when no one else would. He dreaded to hear that the man might be dead.

Instead, Asgerd answered, “He will not welcome you. Balinor hates everyone and everything. A cave's the best place for him.”

  
***

Merlin observed the snug room they had secured at the inn. There were two thick straw mattresses on a wooden block shoved together. One thin blanket was laid on top. A small candle stood on the single book shelf and the only warmth that was offered came directly from the room below, and so did the scents. There was one chair. It seems that even now hospitality came grudgingly. At least they had a small basin of fresh water and some towels, and there was a chamber pot. But that was all.

What was more important was that no one suspected Arthur of being the Prince of Camelot so far. It was Merlin’s only solace right now. Arthur bustled in behind him and pushed him out of the door opening, dropped the bag where he stood, and proceeded to walk through the room to inspect it. Merlin bent down and started unpacking for the both of them.

“The Feorre Mountains are just a few hours ride, they said,” Arthur remarked from the window, staring out over the dark woodland that rose up right behind the inn. There was nothing to see.

“Yes, but we don’t know how many caves there are, do we?” Merlin argued, taking out one of the bedrolls to add it to the thin covers they would have to sleep with.

Arthur continued, lighthearted, “If you hadn’t come to Camelot, would you have been drafted into their army right now?”

“Cenred’s army?”

“Yes, pitched against the Angles, possibly against Camelot?”

“I doubt they’d have me,” he shrugged. “Not much of a fighter after all…”

“Well, they would need _someone_ to scrub their latrines. If they even use them at all out here.”

Merlin grinned and decided not to take the bait. He did take a moment to freshen up the air in the room and warm it. He got rid of the fleas in the mattress as well. The relief he was expecting to feel at being able to openly improve the room was absent. And he knew why. They were on this trip only because of him. He had set the dragon free and even though Arthur knew almost everything that had occurred, Merlin hadn’t dared to reveal this small fact to him. His smile faded and he frowned.

“We will find him,” Arthur shot in his direction.

“What if we don’t?” Merlin said miserably.

“We will,” Arthur countered stubbornly, and approached him with his chin held high.

“There won’t be anything to return to. The dragon will burn it all down.” His voice hitched and he took a step back.

“Shut up, Merlin. For the sake of the men who are fighting tonight, for the women who are keeping their homes safe, I don’t want you talking like this. It’s not your fault.”

Merlin glared at Arthur for being so very wrong, even if he didn’t know that he was. Arthur glared back at him stubbornly. Merlin took a step back until he felt the door against his back. Arthur didn’t stop until he was inches away from Merlin’s face. The heat rose to his cheeks, but it did nothing to soothe his sense of culpability.

“Like it or not, _Mer_ lin, I need you on my side for this.” His large blue eyes demanded Merlin’s full attention, piercing through his resistance. “I’ve never confronted a magic user and asked them to be on our side. You’re the closest I’ve got. If you wouldn’t be here with me…” The unspoken significance of Merlin’s part in it only moderately soothed him. Arthur’s body was only inches apart from his, but Merlin didn’t feel that he deserved its welcoming warmth, nor the stability of its touch. He leaned against the door and trembled.

“I know I’m the Prince, and you can’t tell me everything… But if I wasn’t, would you tell me what’s really bothering you?” Arthur’s brow creased with worry. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Merlin huffed, “No,” and turned his head away. “Perhaps.” And when Arthur remained quiet, the words came spilling. “I had no choice. It’s all my fault. All the people who died. The dragon was locked away, had been for twenty years,” he said, swallowing a choke. “I _had to_ promise to free the dragon, so that he would tell me how to release the sleeping spell over the city, so that we wouldn’t fall asleep, and so that we could defeat the Knights of Medhir. And then…” His voice died away and his eyes sought Arthur for the inevitable punishment and disappointment that would follow.

“You made a promise?” Arthur asked, processing the information.

“If I hadn’t… you would have fallen asleep. Everyone we would have protected would be dead. You and I would be at the mercy of Morgause’s will. Cenred would be King of Camelot by now.”

Arthur was frowning at him. “That’s what he has been gathering his armies for. They were planning an invasion.”

Merlin nodded. “I had no choice,” he whispered.

“All the people who died, Merlin,” Arthur began and Merlin felt miserable. But Arthur raised a hand and stroked his cheek. “They would have likely died anyway when Cenred’s armies had arrived. Our people wouldn’t have given themselves over so easily. Besides, there was no way you could have known that the dragon would attack.”

Just for a moment Merlin had believed he could be spared the depth of his guilt, if it wasn’t for the falsehood of Arthur’s final words. His doubt must have shown in his face. He panicked. He stared at Arthur mutely. He couldn’t betray Morgana. Not now.

“Merlin? Did you? Did you know it would attack?”

“Dragons are meant to be free. The dragon hates Uther for imprisoning him. He won’t stop…”

“So, it all boils down to that again?” Arthur moved away from him and walked through the room.

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

“Don’t be sorry, Merlin. It’s my father who has created this situation. He’s the one who imprisoned the dragon. I never even knew that a magical beast of that size lived there!”

Merlin stayed with his back against the door. He felt deflated now that he had told him, and his stomach was pulled into angry knots, waiting for the rest of Arthur’s displeasure. “I would do all I can to protect him.”

“I know that you are loyal, Merlin. Quite frankly, I’m staggered to see how much you have supported him, considering what he is and what he does.”

“I’m only loyal to you, Arthur. I protect him for you. If you weren’t here, if anything happened to you…” Of this, at least, he was entirely certain.

“Then what, you would leave Camelot to fend for itself?”

“No, I would defend the people, not their king,” he said hoarsely. “I exist for you alone.”

“Are you loyal because you love me, because of the prophecy, or because you believe in me, Merlin?”

“All of it…” He felt tears welling in the corners of his eyes and looked up at the dark wooden ceiling of their tiny room.

“And there was nothing you could have done to keep the dragon locked away?” Arthur asked testily.

“No,” he said. He knew that however much he loved his mother, her life could not compare to the nearly two hundred dead, and the possible deaths that might follow in the days that they were traveling to find Balinor.

“Then you made the right choice.” Arthur moved to him again. “To have forfeited our last defense against Morgause would have been suicide. It was the worse option to leave the dragon locked away and not receive his answer.”

The prince sounded so certain that Merlin thought that he might begin to believe him. He leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes. He couldn’t let go of the memories of all the destruction that was caused by his hand the moment he used the sword to break the chain. But he also knew that part of his anger ought to be directed at Morgause, at the Great Dragon, and at Uther. Not just himself.

“Are you in danger in any way?” Arthur asked, pulling at Merlin’s wrists, yanking him away from the door, and gathering him into his arms.

“No more than anyone else,” he said, collapsing against the prince. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Arthur’s. “I’m sorry, Arthur.” He closed his eyes and frowned, tears streaking his cheeks.

“Shut up,” Arthur said. “I don’t want you apologizing for having had a hard choice to make. Only if the choice you made was wrong.”

“I’m afraid,” he said at last, opening his eyes.

“So am I, but that doesn’t mean I can give up.”

“I’m not giving up,” Merlin said. “I’m not—” But Arthur was already kissing him. Merlin melted against him, and drank up the confidence Arthur offered him.

“I know,” Arthur breathed between their sloppy kisses.

Merlin pushed his tongue into Arthur’s mouth, trying to drown away anything stupid he might have to say after that. He made quick work of Arthur’s sword belt and leather jacket, then pushed the coat off his shoulders. He had the foresight to shut the small curtain with a swish of his wrist. While he turned around to light the candle, offering them some light, Arthur was plucking at his clothes and stripping him piece by piece.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed and Merlin wiped his tears away and straddled him, feeling alive with desire. “You forgive me then?” he whispered, pressing his lips against Arthur’s neck, his collarbone, and over his broad shoulders.

Arthur’s hands roamed over his back, and his lips were on his ear, when he replied, “I’ll only say this once. Shut up, Merlin. Morgause is the true cause behind this. In you I only see all that is good. Now say ‘Yes, Arthur’ and be done with it.”

Merlin snorted a laugh against Arthur’s skin. “Yes, Arthur.” He roamed his hand through the prince’s hair. “Yes, always.”

The chair moved by itself to anchor against the door handle, while Arthur pushed Merlin down against the mattress.

  
**\-----104 Arthur-----**

The next morning they set off for the Feorre Mountains. The horses seemed eager to be moving again. Merlin and Royse guided them in a slow trot through the thick pinewoods in the Forest of Merendra, which coated the bleak valleys. As they climbed, the forests got thinner, and when they reached the highlands they galloped together through open fields. Merlin and Royse always seemed slightly ahead of him, no matter how much he spurred Thorunn onwards.

Some time later, they watered the horses near a mountain stream and Merlin filled their deerskin flasks again after they too had their refreshment. Arthur looked up at the sharp stone peaks around them. They were just at the foothills of the Feorre Mountains now. The landscape was pale and gray, covered in cool mists laying low over the land. It would snow before the day was out, he thought. The sun was nowhere to be seen.

He was glad that he hadn’t brought his chainmail and armor. Although it left him more vulnerable against attacks, at least it didn’t drain the warmth from his clothes. Mail was heavy and cold in winter; a poor companion at all times, except in battle. Besides, he would have Merlin to shield him if anything happened. He knew that now. No one would know who he was. If they would fight, it would be side by side.

Although Merlin had been more quiet than usual that morning, Arthur had definitely seen relief on his features. They weren’t out of the water yet, the dragon was still terrorizing the citadel, but at least Merlin’s fierce guilt over it had subsided. It made Arthur ponder about exactly what the promise had been. Was there more to it? There probably was. But if Merlin wasn’t telling him, there was a chance that there was a good reason for it.

“Ready to go?” Merlin asked.

“Tell me something, Merlin,” Arthur said, as he finished his spiced bread with cheese and put his gloves back on. “Were the Knights of Medhir or the dragon’s attack part of the prophecy?”

Merlin paused mid-packing and raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“And you’re certain of this?” Arthur held out a hand for Merlin to help him up.

“I’m not certain of a whole lot,” Merlin began and walked up to Arthur.

“Well, no surprises there,” Arthur remarked. Merlin snorted and pulled back his hand, just as Arthur grabbed for it. “Help me up already,” he ordered.

Merlin did, and grinned at him with humorous, crinkly eyes.

Arthur put a hand on the nape of Merlin’s neck and stared at his stupid grin. A thought struck him. “How many people actually know about it?”

The grin faded and there was that difficult look on his face again, complicated and stiff, unguarded, on their lonely clearing in the mountains. The cool winds swept over them and played with Merlin’s hair. Arthur kept his hand on Merlin’s neck and stared at him without wavering.

At last Merlin answered, “It’s been going for some time, I don’t know how long. To some people it is taught as knowledge.”

“Would Balinor know it?”

“I don’t know. It’s mostly… the druids, actually.” Merlin shrugged and pulled away from Arthur’s hand at last.

The druids. They knew about the prophecy. If they did, would it include Arthur’s part in it? Or perhaps they didn’t believe that anything would actually happen, considering the current political state. Arthur had fought and killed many of their tribes, he had been brought up that way. Would they accept the prophecy’s words as true?

He pondered. Camelot’s borders were defended by various armies Uther had in place, and they too targeted the druids. Fear reigned, so-called magic users were brought before the court. It was little wonder that any word of prophecy had failed to reach his ears until now.

“I hope we’ll find him,” Merlin said, pulling him back to reality.

“So do I, Merlin. Let’s head out.”

They rode onwards and the going got tougher. The horses were climbing steeper hills and taking care of their footing. Arthur did his best to carefully select the best path for them but it was getting difficult. When they found a rocky overhang which could provide shelter for the horses, with a running stream next to it, they both looked at one another and wordlessly understood. They would tie up the horses and continue on foot. Arthur took one of the travel bags and hoisted it onto his back. Merlin took the other. They started their climb and kept an eye out for anything that looked like a cave.

Meanwhile Arthur continued thinking about the prophecy that had Merlin so focused. He didn’t want to believe that Merlin wouldn’t have had his back if there hadn’t been a prophecy to push him to do it. But Arthur was pretty sure that Merlin wouldn’t have considered him to be anything special when they had first met. The idea that Merlin might have walked out of his life as quickly as he had entered it, baffled him. But if Merlin knew that he would have had to serve Arthur, surely he would have practiced his serving skills at least a little better?

Merlin’s loyalty was real, he was convinced of that. But it also depended fundamentally on the prophecy. There was no other reality in which his behavior made sense. It was the reason that Merlin had stuck with Arthur, as well as the knights, through the dangers and hardships unnumbered, and through Arthur’s own occasional, harsh moods. Through all of that, Merlin would die for him. He had to be hiding something.

The more he thought about it, the more he understood that part of the puzzle was missing. Even after destructions of entire clans, followed by harrying interrogations, even after Uther’s incessant squeezing of every piece of information he could learn in order to beat these people down, there had never been anything that resembled information that alluded to divination. Or had he just simply never really listened? Or was it too dangerous to let anything become public knowledge, in case someone would try to stop it from happening. Or force it to happen. And then he had it. He understood what it was that he had been missing.

“There, there’s a cave!” Merlin pointed and Arthur craned his head to look up. They followed something that looked like an old path upwards, and found a shallow, empty cave with no signs of being lived in.

“This isn’t it. It can’t be,” Arthur concluded. “We will keep looking.”

They climbed onwards and around at least two mountains, going up and down across rocky terrain. The going was slow sometimes because large boulders and ravines were in the way of any direct paths. Merlin had spotted two more caves, but they too proved to be entirely deserted. The one that Arthur found was the same. The cold made their ears hurt and their noses turn pink, and the winds nipped any piece of skin that dared to remain exposed to the elements.

By now, daylight was fading fast, and Merlin created a torch out of an old stick. It lit their path, but they were losing ability to see into the distance. He noticed that Merlin became frustrated, so he snatched the torch out of his hand and walked onward. Merlin busied himself instead with gathering firewood. Arthur swore. His feet were sore and his stomach rumbled, but Balinor had to be here somewhere. They _had to_ find him.

“Balinor!” he began to shout.

Merlin looked up at him in surprise from gathering firewood. “He’s here?”

“No, but he has to hear us. Balinor!” Arthur shouted over the mountainside. It mockingly echoed back to him.

“I think this is a really bad idea, Arthur.”

“We don’t have a choice,” he explained in a simplistic tone. “If we don’t find him, or don’t find him on time, I don’t know what we will encounter upon our return!”

As the sun sunk behind the mountain peaks, night swept over the land faster.

“Over there!” Merlin pointed, cradling the stack of wood in his free arm and Arthur followed his gaze. “There’s another cave.”

“Why are there so many _bloody_ caves in these mountains?” Arthur swore.

His thighs were sour from exhaustion by the time they had climbed the last slope. He knew that Merlin must be even worse off than he was. But Merlin didn’t utter any complaints. Instead, he wordlessly dropped the pile of wood in the cave entrance and climbed ahead of Arthur. The cold winds swept through their clothes and Arthur stumbled inside after him, waving the torch around to see his surroundings. He was secretly glad to be out of the wind.

Outside it was now pitch black. They walked into the cave side by side while the fire swept across eerie rock formations along the stone walls. They climbed over boulders and kicked gravel aside as they turned several corners and went deeper. Even here there was no sign of life. There were no markings of any fires, no furniture, no old clothes, not even any remains of animal bones. Finally they reached the end of the cave tunnel. This place, too, was empty.

Arthur shook his head and steadied himself against the wall. He was too tired to think straight by now, and he handed Merlin the torch. “Can you set up a fire? We will have to rest here. We’ll continue in the morning.”

“No,” Merlin said dejected. “I will keep looking.”

“There’s no way,” Arthur said, exhausted, “that you are going to do that by yourself. You need me to defend you if you run into any of Cenred’s armies.”

“I can defend myse—”

“You’ve told me yourself, that if anyone sees your magic and runs away with that information, that it is too dangerous. Even here in Essetir. What do you think Cenred and Morgause will do if they hear that a sorcerer was spotted in these mountains? What if they find Balinor first?”

Merlin pouted at him, still unwilling to give up.

“And I need you to be my shield if anything happens, I don’t have my armor with me.”

“Alright,” Merlin conceded at last. “But I will call out once more. Whatever comes on our path, we will deal with it.”

Arthur raised his brow. Since when was Merlin deciding things? He looked at Merlin’s hard gaze and nodded at him, acknowledging that Merlin had, in fact, been doing so for quite some time.

They climbed back to the opening of the cave. With the torch in hand, Merlin went to stand on the outer perch of the cave entrance and looked out over the darkness stretching out in the valley below. He tried to see anything, perhaps a small flame in the distance, someone else’s campfire, but there was nothing.

Merlin took a deep breath and yelled, “Balinooooor!”

The sound echoed over the mountain peaks. Arthur was still leaning against the stone wall and he felt it rumble as Merlin yelled. There was a roaring growl to his voice that signified his frustration. He presumed that it was because they were now surrounded by stone, rather than trees and shrubs. The loose gravel between the rocks behind him fell down from the vibrations. Arthur wondered. From their vantage point they could see that it had started to snow.

Arthur put his travel bag down and sunk to his knees, taking his rest. He dug the deerskin flask out of the pack and drunk, then offered it to Merlin. “It’s no use. He won’t come out by himself. We will have to pick up our search in the morning.”

Before he even realized what was happening, Merlin had laid out the bedrolls and organized the fire. He wasn’t certain where Merlin had summoned his last energy from. He was warming up one of their packed meals at the fire now and Arthur gazed at him. “Save your strength.”

“Arthur, would you do _anything_ to save your kingdom?”

“Of course I would!”

Merlin handed him his meal and returned to the fire, staring out at the blackness that was the cave opening and at the occasional snow blowing inside. He began warming his own food. “Would you ask Morgause for help?”

“After her blatant attack? I think it would be the worst option. But if we don’t find this Balinor…”

“She might have other powers or artefacts. We won’t know if we don’t ask.”

“She is allied with Cenred, I don’t see it as an option, Merlin.”

“And what if you would need to give the dragon what he wants?” Merlin asked, his expression looked despondent.

“My father?” Arthur demanded. “You’re asking me to—?”

“No, I’m not. Certainly not. But if there was no other way out?”

“I wouldn’t. I couldn’t do that, Merlin.” Arthur realized with a pang that there was a chance that his father might already be dead. He would be sitting here in a cave and he wouldn’t know about it. He couldn’t bear the thought. “Come here and shut up,” he said. Merlin climbed over and helped Arthur out of his sword belt, shoes, and gloves. Arthur climbed into his bedroll and Merlin settled next to him, sitting upright with his back against a boulder.

“We’ll find him,” Arthur told him quietly. “We must.”

  
**\-----105 Merlin-----**

Merlin woke up long before dawn when he heard movement outside the cave. He had been sleeping in a sitting position and his back hurt. Arthur lay close beside him and was fast asleep. He could feel the other’s warmth beside him, snug and comforting. He listened to see whether or not he could hear the sound again, but it was completely quiet. His ears strained against the surrounding silence, until he heard nothing but his own heartbeat gushing through his ears. The cave was bitterly cold and the fire had long gone out. He didn’t dare to ignite it with magic in case someone was outside after all. He fumbled in the darkness, climbing out of the bedroll, and suddenly he heard the noise again.

It definitely sounded like footsteps, and they seemed to be edging closer towards the cave. Merlin left Arthur asleep, pulled the prince’s sword out of the scabbard, and edged towards the cave entrance. The pale winter moon offered him a bare minimum of light to see with, catching on the thin layer of snow that powdered the landscape. He stuck his head out and looked around to see if he could make anything out, peering through the darkness, until the glint of a large knife pointing towards his neck made him jump.

“Who are you?” a deep voice called from the darkness.

Merlin held out the sword in front of him. He hardly knew how to use it to defend himself, but he would use it if he needed to. Arthur’s words had struck him. He did not want to be seen using magic, not here.

“Are you Balinor?” Merlin asked. He made out the shape of a figure against the dark rock. A man wearing a long, dark coat made of leather and furs was pointing a knife in his direction. He had long, wild black hair and a beard which hid most of his expression. It was his eyes which Merlin thought stood out, they were hard and resolute. Uncompromising.

“Was it you who called out? How _dare_ you use that voice to call me!”

“You _are_ Balinor,” Merlin concluded stupidly. He lowered the sword.

That was a mistake. The man jumped forward and slapped his wrist so hard that he let go and dropped the sword onto the stones. It clanged loudly.

“Tell me your name, boy. Who are you? Who were your parents?”

Merlin shook his head. “None of that matters,” he said, taking a step back. His heart was in his throat. If they really had found him, then they stood a chance at last. “We need your help.”

“You are impossible!” the man growled.

Merlin was taken aback by his gruffness. Asgerd was probably right, a cave would be the best for a man like this. “We have been looking for a dragonlord, we had no other choice than to come and look for you,” he tried to explain.

“There are no more dragons,” the man said. “Even a simpleton knows that.”

Merlin frowned at him. “Not-so-simple men will tell you that the Great Dragon has been freed and is killing innocent people. If you really are a dragonlord—”

The man hunched down suddenly, hiding his expression. Merlin observed him in wonder. He seemed to feel around him for something that wasn’t there. He toed the ground and snaked his hands along the rock. He leaned his head back and sniffed in the night air, while looking up at the stars as if they could tell him anything. He looked up for some time. “Kilgharrah is free? Yes... it must be.”

“What?”

The man shot Merlin a surprised glance and shook his head. “Why should you need my help dealing with your little problem?”

“Little? The dragon has killed nearly two-hundred people! Probably more by now!”

“Deal with him yourself! I don’t care anymore!”

“We can’t! We have left our friends and family in search of you, _please_. If you are Balinor, will you hear us out?”

“Where is Kilgharrah now?”

Merlin hesitated for a moment. He remembered Gaius’ story about the betrayal against the dragonlords, and his aid in the man’s escape. Uther had deceived him. If they were going to ask for his help, it would not do to lie. “He is attacking the castle in Camelot.”

Balinor threw his head back and laughed a wild, cruel laugh. It scattered out over the valley below and echoed back at them from the crude rockfaces. Balinor had his eyes closed and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the idea of Kilgharrah burning the citadel down. When his laughter died down, the man paused his amusement when he saw the point of the sword aimed at him.

Arthur had come up on his other side, picked up his sword, and held it up. “Balinor, is it? Why don’t you come inside and fully hear our proposition.”

“You come here with a knight?” he asked of Merlin.

Merlin blinked stupidly. “I serve him.”

Balinor threw a dirty look in Arthur’s direction. “And you, you’re asking me with a sword pointed at me?”

“Oh, I’m not asking. We will hear each other out and either you will help us, or we will be on our way to find another solution.”

“Then I can make this very easy for you,” the man sighed. “I will not help. That time is behind me.”

“You will hear our part,” Arthur pressed.

“Gaius said the dragonlords could tame dragons, is that true?” Merlin blurted out.

Balinor’s expression changed then to something milder. “Gaius?”

“Yes,” Merlin said. He shot Arthur a quick look and the prince lowered his sword.

With a defiant shrug, the man pocketed his knife. “A good man. He’s still around?”

“I am his apprentice,” Merlin said, hoping to get an angle.

“And yet you know nothing,” Balinor grumbled.

“Watch your tone,” Arthur warned. His gloved hand tightened around the grip of his lowered sword, but he didn’t swing it again.

“What are your names? Tell me that, before we talk.”

“I’m Merlin. He is… Lancelot,” Merlin uttered suddenly. Arthur didn’t even blink. “He is a knight.”

“So, you work for Gaius _and_ serve a knight? What are you, some kind of idiot?”

“He’s got a point,” Arthur added with a shrug, and Merlin’s face faltered.

Merlin stepped aside as Balinor pushed past him and into the cave. He sat down next to the ashes of the fire and shook his head. His eyes stole over their belongings and Merlin wondered if he would aim to steal anything. He hoped not, but for now he didn’t have a very good impression of this man. He took his seat cross-legged and, closing their circle, Arthur sat opposite the two of them. If the man wanted to leave, he could. But he no longer seemed inclined to.

“Tell me, what do you two know about dragons?”

“Almost nothing,” Merlin said, looking down.

“That’s what I thought,” the man practically sneered. “You come here, and I bet you don’t even know what you are asking me to do, do you?”

“The dragons were slain by King Uther and his armies,” Arthur said, keeping a straight gaze at the man. “All were presumed dead, until this one started attacking the city. Apparently it had been imprisoned below the castle. Nothing has worked to defeat it.”

“So, how was he freed?”

Arthur tilted his head but didn’t answer him. “All we know is that we can't stop him. Only you, a dragonlord, can.”

“He doesn't act blindly. He kills for a reason. Vengeance. This is of Uther's making.”

“But he's killing innocent people,” Merlin added. “Women and children. Half the town is going up in flames.”

“Why should I care? Uther pursued me! He hunted me like an animal!”

“I know! But these people did not!” Merlin said.

“Helping you, helping them; it is the same as helping Uther. You cannot expect me to do it.”

“What would you want in return?” Arthur interrupted. He took off his gloves and reached for a pouch of money that was stored in his pocket. He lifted it to show to Balinor.

“Foolish boys, do you honestly think that there is anything I want that you can give me?”

“There has to be something!” Arthur proclaimed.

“A fire to warm myself might get me started on that thought,” Balinor said and pointedly looked in Arthur’s direction.

“I can take care of that,” Merlin began. It would be far better if Arthur spoke with him. He clearly had the upper hand when it came to negotiating with men who had grand thoughts. He had after all turned the convictions of several neighboring kings into something workable. And this man would be hard pressed to do anything.

“You will stay,” Balinor said to Merlin.

“Fine.” Arthur got up without a counter argument, tied his sword belt around his waist, and pulled the string of a deerskin flask filled with water over his shoulder. “I’ll gather firewood. If anything happens to Merlin or any of our belongings…” He shot Balinor a warning glance before he left.

Merlin felt increasingly uneasy. Being left alone with this bitter man worried him, and losing sight of Arthur in the dark, in the mountains, in Cenred’s kingdom, felt even worse. What was he doing?

Once Balinor seemed satisfied that Arthur was out of earshot, he fixed his dark gaze upon Merlin’s form. Merlin made himself small in response. “Do you really know nothing, boy?” he demanded severely. “And don’t waste my time by pretending that you don’t have magic.”

Merlin opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again.

“Unbelievable. Such a disappointment.”

Merlin frowned. If Balinor had figured out that he had magic, then there was very little he could do about that. Balinor had magic himself being the last dragonlord. Considering that fact, as well as Uther’s request to him to rescue Camelot, it was a big twist. If this wasn’t already a grand shift in political norms, then nothing else would ever begin to make things right for magic users. Perhaps Balinor was the key to begin his prophecy’s journey. So he spoke.

“Kilgharrah, if that is his name, was locked away in the caves below the castle for about twenty years. He was bound with a magical chain, and under Uther’s orders. He is a noble beast and the last of his kind. Blades forged in his breath can kill magical foes that cannot be slain by mortal weapons. He talks, he has visions and knowledge of prophecies. Sometimes he’s funny, but most of the times he just talks in riddles…” He felt his ears grow hot under Balinor’s scrutinous gaze, so he kept his eyes on the pile of ashes instead.

“How long have you spoken with him?”

“Two years perhaps.”

“You never asked him his name?”

Merlin shook his head. He felt embarrassed. The Great Dragon had been locked away, surrounded by dark stone and never saw anyone apart from Merlin and Gaius during their occasional visits, and Merlin had never even asked him his name. He felt terribly ashamed.

“What exactly _does_ Gaius teach you?”

“Herbs and potions…” And when Balinor rolled his eyes, Merlin added, “As well as how to judge how we might counter dangers, if their origin is magic.”

“He sets you up against sorcerers?”

“No, we defend the people when the King and the knights can’t…” He looked away, afraid of whatever judgment might pass. “That is what I do. I protect. No one knows about me.”

“You were right,” Balinor said at length.

“About what?”

“You know nearly nothing about dragons.”

“I’m not as stupid as you seem to think,” Merlin began to say.

“Neither am I, boy. That knight is none other than Arthur Pendragon. I don’t know what you are playing me for, but I am no fool!”

 _Impossible_ , he thought. They carried no sigils or anything. “His name is Lancelot,” Merlin reminded him.

Balinor barked a mean laugh and shook his head. “I would recognize that ring on his finger anywhere. The Queen wore it all the time. There is no one else who would keep it but her son.”

Merlin forgot entirely to mask his expression when Balinor revealed his discovery and by then he had already given it all away. He tried to convince himself that it would hardly matter anyway. If the man was going to help Uther, he was going to help his son by extension. And if the reasons were stacked against helping, then it wouldn’t have mattered if Arthur had been the one to ask him.

“This is Cenred’s kingdom,” Balinor said. “Just by being here, he is asking for trouble. He could be snagged up right now.”

Merlin clenched his jaw and frowned, looking out as best as he could over the darkness of the valley stretching out below them. Arthur wouldn’t go that far away from them, would he? Surely Cenred’s soldiers had very little to search for up here in these mountains?

Balinor suddenly leaned forward, startling Merlin. “Why would you protect a _Pendragon_?”

“I serve him!” Merin said defiantly.

“Why? They would execute you! Have Gaius’ words blinded you to the truth?”

“You’re wrong. Arthur is the future of Camelot!”

“I will destroy that future!” Balinor warned.

“And I am protecting it.”

“You? You can’t do any of that!”

“Which is why I need your help!”

“I will not give you what you want!”

“I want the attacks on Camelot to stop,” Merlin said exasperated. “And I will do what it takes to achieve that.”

“Then you’re even stupider than I thought!”

“So, even though you are the last dragonlord and you are the only one who can save the lives of innocent people, you would rather sit here in a cave and let all the dragon magic in the world die with you?”

Balinor narrowed his eyes and grumbled, “That is about right.”

“And you didn’t even know that there was a dragon left. Well, now there appears to be and you’re still not doing anything?”

“Watch your tone with me!”

“Or what? You are a dragonlord without a dragon, and that makes you lord over nothing. Camelot will not stop until the beast is dead, you are the only one who can change that outcome!”

“Do not pretend to know what I can do, or will do!”

“No, I get it. You’ve been alone all this time. You’ve had nobody to share this with. You thought everything was lost. And here there is a living, fire-breathing dragon who is still out there, and the things you can do are suddenly valued. It’s absurd. If Gaius was right and dragonlords are noble, just like the dragons themselves—” Balinor got up to his feet and unsheathed his knife again. Merlin stood up as well, and backed away a step. He continued, disregarding the knife’s sharp edge pointed at him. “Then you realize that you never did this because of any people, because of any royalty asking you, but because it is who you are!”

“You hide amongst the worst of them, share their food and enjoy your little time of peace. You are spoiled like the worst of them, and you _dare_ tell me to embrace my nature? That place will never welcome me!”

“But you can make a _difference!”_

“They will trap and hang both of us! No Pendragon will ever care!”

Merlin shook his head. “You’re wrong!”

“There’s nothing you can do to change that, boy. Don’t be foolish!”

“Watch me!”

Balinor swung with his knife and Merlin dodged, feeling his magic pull at his senses defensively. He did not want to hurt this man, they needed him or all would be lost. Instead he tugged the large knife out of his hand by magic, which coiled around the blade and thrust the weapon into the stone wall across from them.

Balinor huffed and stepped over to it, trying to yank it out of the wall. He pulled a second time, and a third. It was placed as solidly as the sword now left in the caves beneath the castle.

“It won’t budge,” Merlin explained softly.

“You are on their side!” Balinor’s eyes became huge and wild.

“I am protecting the people and protecting those who do good.”

“And who made you the judge of what is good and what is not?”

Merlin blinked. He had never considered that. He had always had to make the choice that seemed right to him, but then there was only one reason he was forced to do so. “Prophecy,” he said with an empty voice.

Stepping over to Merlin, Balinor glared at him and breathed, “Do you believe such nonsense?”

This man was impossible. Merlin struggled not to show anything in his expression, reverting into himself and letting everything slide. “Arthur will rule as King, and he will unite Albion. Kilgharrah says so himself.” As he said so, the early morning sun peeked over the mountain tops and lit their cave. It filled Merlin with a ridiculous hope.

“You should keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong, and let the truly powerful ones bring about those changes if all that nonsense has any merit. You have no part in it.”

His momentary joy was instantly gone. “You can threaten me all you want. The longer you stand here, the more good people will not open their eyes tomorrow. No child was put on this world simply to serve one king. If they are to experience a different world, you _have to_ help us. Please!”

The man spat on the ground in front of Merlin.

“Well, I see that you two are getting along,” Arthur said in a sarcastic voice that made all their arguing suddenly feel like a tantrum. Merlin felt elated at Arthur’s return, knowing that he was safe and sound. The morning sun lit up his hair until it looked gold and highlighted the color on his cheeks from the intense climb. Merlin was deeply relieved. Arthur carried a bundle of sticks with him, as well as a large, dead hare, tied to a string over his shoulder. “I take it you haven’t come to terms yet?”

Balinor glared at Arthur and took a step away from Merlin. He took a seat at the edge of the cave opening again and stared bitterly at the changing colors of the morning sky.

“Help me with this, will you?” Arthur said, and Merlin took the wood from him and started to build the fire. Arthur eyed the knife in the rock but didn’t remark.

Merlin was still feeling entirely wound up and made a decision. He eyed Arthur sharply. The prince frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but by then, with a flash of gold, the wood had aligned itself perfectly and a fire had started to burn. The hare had been skinned, prepared, and was instantly hanging above the fire to start roasting.

Balinor’s look was furious and he looked like he might either fight them or bolt.

“Was that really necessary, Merlin?” Arthur said, curiously eyeing Balinor in the corner. “You could have given me some warning.” The prince untied his sword belt, dropped the flask, and placed several bowls next to the fire in preparation of their meal. “So, how far did you get?”

“It’s alright, Arthur. He figured me out already. And he knows who you are. He is convinced that not helping your father is worth the deaths of a few thousand people.”

Arthur sighed and took his seat by the fire. He looked up at Balinor curiously. “Alright then, let’s really talk.”

  
**\-----106 Arthur-----**

Arthur took out a small cloth from his jacket pocket where he had stored a few handful of rose hips that he had plucked, and dealt them out. “This is all I could find around this mountain.” He offered it to Merlin, who took two, and to Balinor who simply stared at him.

He smiled and took one, biting into the soft pulp and chewed thoughtfully. “Are you surprised to see me accustomed to magic?”

“The persecutions…?” Balinor asked, struggling with the words as if he did not want to show his curiosity.

“Are still happening, under my father’s orders. Which is why I don’t tell him everything anymore.” He ate another piece of rose hip. The sun was shining against the side of his face now and though it was not as warm as summer, the warmth it did offer was very welcome. The fire did the rest. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.”

“I have said my words to you already.”

“You’ve said that you wouldn’t help us. I won’t ask you again just yet. But what I do want to know is your part of the story. All of it.”

“Why should someone like you care?”

Arthur folded the rest of the rose hips into the cloth and put the package back into his pocket. “I don’t know yet, whether I care. I think that should depend greatly on the story you will tell me. I already know that my father has done atrocities. Growing up, it made me feel protected. I also know that I owe my very existence and my survival to magic. And I’m pretty sure there is some purpose to this all…” He made sure he didn’t look away from the man. “I am not my father. And while my apology about what happened in the past would probably mean nothing to you, I’m sitting here, right now, asking to understand. Asking to complete the story of the dragonlords.”

The smell of roasting meat was filling the cave and pacifying hungry stomachs. Merlin picked up the flask and drank from it. He was eyeing Arthur with a quiet pride that formed a line under his cheekbones. It filled Arthur with confidence.

“If I tell you my tale, then you will understand. And you will leave me in peace.”

Arthur did nothing but lift a hand, neither accepting nor denying Balinor’s statement.

Balinor looked at the flames licking at the lean meat. Occasional drops of fat trickled down and dripped onto the coal, which created an aroma that made those around yearn for food.

“The dragonlords were summoned by a High Priestess of the Old Religion to form an allegiance with Camelot under King Uther. He was a conqueror and he needed protection along his newly formed borders.”

“Was it Nimueh?” Arthur asked.

Balinor frowned. “I’m surprised they told you about her at all. Her name became forbidden.”

“They didn’t,” Arthur said simply, without offering anything else. Merlin shifted uncomfortably but otherwise didn’t interrupt.

“Before you were even one year old, Uther had put everything into place to protect you. He had already lost his wife, and the fact that you existed did something to him. It should have been something great, but instead at every turn he saw some menace. Nimueh was gone by that time, having fallen out of Uther’s grace. Since we had signed with Uther, and not with Nimueh, he now used us against her, to try to hunt her down. That was one of his first great betrayals. It marked the beginning of the Great Purge.

“It was our life’s quest to be bound with dragons, share parts of their lives, and to look after each other. We formed an elite group of outriders. Each of us had a dragon. Our dragons were usually living nearby and could be called upon at any moment. There were only about forty of us. Nimueh was notorious for her magical strength… some of our kin fell.” As he spoke, Balinor looked helpless for a moment, stuck in grief, and then frowned again.

“What do you mean by kin?” Merlin asked.

Balinor sighed and shook his head. “When you become bound to a dragon, you become their kin. And since all dragons are kin, all dragonlords are too, in a way. Although we all had magic, we were not all related by blood. A collection of families. So yes, we were kin. Contrary to what stories tell, we didn’t normally ride them. Few dragons ever grew large enough, it’s not like the old ages.”

“Is Kilgharrah your dragon?” Merlin asked.

“No,” Balinor said. “Not originally. His lord—lady, I should say—had fallen. I am bound to him now.”

“Was your dragon killed too?” Merlin pushed. Arthur eyed him momentarily to quiet him down.

“You wouldn’t begin to understand the suffering of such a separation,” Balinor said. Merlin remained quiet again and after a few moments Balinor continued. “While Nimueh defended herself against us, Uther, too, turned against us soon enough. It was less than a year after he had sent us to find her and retrieve her that she had not only managed to reduce our number by half, but she had also destroyed all the cold iron there was to be found within Camelot. This made Uther even more paranoid because he didn’t have control anymore.

“It all went to chaos when one of our own spoke up against Uther and his burnings of sorcerers and witches in his crazed hatred of Nimueh. In response, Uther had all the offspring of anyone who was ever suspected to have magic slaughtered. Even in those where no signs had come to show yet. Uther responded to the public accusations by destroying our artefacts, the ones that belonged to the dragonlords and gave us strength.

“At this time, I was trying to calm the situation. I called all the other dragonlords back to the citadel and I spent many evenings talking to Uther about these events. We were all suffering. He had lost many armies to attacks on the Eastern borders, against King Bayard, against King Lot, and in the South against King Odin. He had found several of his armies decimated by militant druid clans, which had only fueled his instability. He needed us on his side.

“So, at long last it was agreed that we would invite the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah, in order to make peace. He was my dragon now. I would show all the dragonlords that we could reign bravely together. However, Uther betrayed us. All of us. Once they were gathered in the castle, he had them rounded up and slaughtered.” Balinor was crying. His rubbed his face with shaking hands.

Merlin looked sullen, staring into the flames. Arthur swallowed. He felt uncomfortable seeing a grown man cry. He offered, “When I was young, I heard very different tales. I had always presumed that my father’s actions had guarded my safety, as well as that of the people. And I am aware that I carry the burden of what the people with magic suffered, since it was my birth that started it all.”

“No, Arthur,” Merlin said. “You were a child. You did not do this.”

Balinor composed himself and continued, his voice gruff. “Outside, all of our dragons were taken down one by one. Then, with a spell which I still don’t know how he got, Uther trapped Kilgharrah. He used an unbreakable magical chain. Not even the Great Dragon could break it.”

“Then Gaius helped you escape?” Merlin asked. Arthur reached out and checked the hind legs of the hare, whether it was ready to eat. Just a little longer.

“Gaius was there,” Balinor agreed. “He was already old then, I didn’t expect he’d still be alive. He had always been good to us. He got me out.”

“What happened?” Arthur asked.

Balinor shook his head and stroked his beard. “I’ve never told a soul this. And I don’t rightly know why I’m telling you now.” He cleared his throat and looked wistful. “I was wounded, so I could hardly use sorcery. Gaius used his magic to make me unnoticed through the hallways.”

Arthur nodded. “I understand. Merlin does that all the time while he works.” The pouty glance Merlin shot him was worth the jape.

“Oh?” Balinor looked at Merlin with a little less disappointment. “That is not easy.”

Merlin shrugged.

“Gaius brought me to his workshop, since I was wounded from the attacks. We discovered that one of the scribes was there. She was a good friend of Gaius’. She had been keeping the ledger of the events against magic and she had become fearful of the recent events. She offered to take care of me and smuggle me out of the city. Gaius arranged our horses, at great risk to himself. We rode them to exhaustion, passing contested territory at the border with Essetir.

“She brought us to her father’s place. She gave up everything she had in the city to bring me there. But Uther would not relent. Since the borders were not yet fixed, there were many soldiers about. He found me even across the borders, just a few months later, despite me using a different name.” He paused and stared out of the cave. “I had come to love the woman, but if Uther’s soldiers had found out who I was living with, they would have killed her too. So I rode away and never returned. She did not deserve that fate.”

“She wasn’t the only one who left everything behind,” Arthur said in acknowledgement.

Balinor leaned forward and put his hands together. “I had been out riding that day. They caught me on the road. It meant that the soldiers wouldn’t even have known where to look. She would be safe. It was my only good fortune.”

Arthur looked him up and down. “You’ve never told the woman what happened?”

“I sent one letter, telling her to forget about me. I traveled from place to place, but each time word would reach me that soldiers were looking for a dragonlord. I settled in the mountains, even after the borders had been secured and the soldiers were gone. I called the dragon, but he couldn’t come to me. It hurt, each time he could not answer my call, on account of being bound.”

“What would you say to the dragon?” Merlin asked, curiously.

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

Merlin shook his head. “You are just sitting here, hiding in shame. You prefer being bitter to setting things right with the world?” Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but Merlin pulled away and shook his head. “I don’t have such luxuries. But I understand,” he said to Balinor. “You couldn’t even face Kilgharrah today. You think you failed him. You haven’t. Not yet.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, “can you serve us?”

Merlin looked at him angrily. “I understand it, Arthur. The gift is a burden at the same time. But I can’t accept that he is the only person in the world who can do it, and he will not help his kin.”

“Help Kilgharrah?” the old man chuckled. His expression was dark. “Do not test me. I am not the only one with powers of the dragonlords. Why do you still pretend, or could it be that you don’t know?”

“Pretend?” Merlin asked.

Arthur felt nervous. Balinor was sizing Merlin up, judging him as if he was a horse to purchase.

“You have the voice. But you cannot use it properly. Your parents didn’t pass it down to you correctly. It won’t matter anyway. Kilgharrah is old, he will die soon. The dragon magic will soon be gone from this world.”

“Dragon magic? But I can’t do anything like that.”

Arthur was beginning to understand. The man would wait out his years and die together with the dragon. He would end their existence in a world he had already given up on. There was nothing left for him to love.

“No, you can’t. Uther has seen to that. Your parents are dead, aren’t they?”

“His mother is alive and well,” Arthur interjected before the man could throw more insults Merlin’s way. “Living peacefully in Ealdor.”

Balinor’s head snapped up instantly. “What did you just say?” The man balled his fists.

Arthur’s eyes widened. It clicked. “No, that’s impossible.” Everything fit together. The timing, the magic, hell, perhaps he could even see it.

“What is?” Merlin asked, clearly not catching up yet.

Balinor’s look was dark and full of warning, but Arthur steeled himself, jutted his jaw and said, “When you escaped from Camelot, you left with Hunith.”

  
**\-----107 Morgana-----**

They had entirely run out of space for sick beds. A curfew was in place. And still more victims were brought in. Several of the people Morgana had taken care of were now bandaged and resting. Four of them had died. She had witnessed death before, gloriously put on display during some of the official tournaments, and they had been grand and impressive. The deaths she had seen here had not been glorious at all.

That morning they had finally held a ceremony for the fallen knights for which they put on a grand display. A small side table was arranged to remember all the other soldiers, guards, as well as citizens who had been written down as dead or missing. Morgana kept the notes now that the assistant was gone. It wasn’t until later that she realized she had written the assistant’s name down among the notes. She cried for each and every one.

She was seated by herself in the war room, a single candle on the desk being her only source of light. During most of the night, she had worked through the piles of notes which had been collected in the infirmary and which contained the names and ages of those who died. She loathed herself for not being able to offer more. To sit in that quiet dark room with nothing but her pen, powerless to actually have an influence. She wasn’t meant to suffer like this. She knew it. Greatness was on her path, it had to be.

If only there was something she could have done to prevent this terrible fate. The nightmares she had suffered hadn’t helped her at all. And if only she could have foreseen better what was to come—no, it wouldn’t have mattered, no one would have listened to her. And even if she told Merlin, nobody listened to him either.

“There you are, Morgana.” It was the voice she least wanted to hear.

“My lord,” she said in response to him, trying very hard not to sound cold and hateful, but that was all she felt. She put her feather pen down and poured some sand over the latest written names.

“Why are you even in here? It is an outrage,” the king declared. He was wearing his full armor, cape, and crown. Beside him stood two guards, each carrying very large metal shields, and Morgana had heard more of them as they had stationed in the hallway. Uther did not go anywhere without them.

“I am doing the work that needs to be done.”

“Surely the names of commoners can wait.” Uther smiled at her and picked up her hand.

She pulled it back rapidly. Her hand was smeared with ink and blood, and there was some of both in her hair and on her dress, she was certain of it. She hadn’t washed in two days and she was certain that she looked terrible. The king’s concern for her was a clear indication that she did.

“I am not done yet.”

“There will be plenty of time to arrange these affairs later. You should retreat now and make sure that you are safe.”

“There isn’t enough help to get this work done. Many of the people who could write have died, old and young. Does this not move you?”

“Of course it does. And we are doing everything we can to keep the dragon at bay.”

“Everything you can, yes. I’m sure this is all your fault somehow.”

She hadn’t intended on saying that out loud, but it had escaped her lips anyway. The man looked sour and had the grace to look down at his feet for a moment. So, it was his fault after all, or at least he had caused the events to coincide until this was the result. The dragon wouldn’t stop until the kingdom burned and Uther burned down with it.

“I demand that you stay within the castle walls, Morgana,” he said at last.

Of course, the man still needed to have control over her, she thought bitterly. It put to her mind that it was the opposite that she should do. Perhaps she would go to town and douse the fires. Perhaps Morgause would be waiting for her to take her away from this. By now, after all this misery, she was almost inclined to go with her too. Almost.

“At least keep to the inner areas,” Uther urged, sensing her resistance. “I want to ensure that you are safe and looked after.”

She smiled at him and offered him no reply. She wouldn’t keep to her word anyway, that much was already set. She needed to make her move, to get away. She could escape among the bustle and head out, but she was afraid.

She was afraid of the dragon, but equally of her sister, who moved with such ease between powers of destruction. She wasn’t certain if she could move between those lines yet. If the king died, she could be partially freed of her misery. The laws would remain in place. She would find other demons which haunted her. No, staying was clearly not an option.

But she knew for a certainty that she also couldn’t disappear in the middle of the night, and travel on her own. The king would think that she had been kidnapped, or would think that someone might hold her ransom. He would send whatever soldiers he had left to go and find her. No, if she left, it would have to be with Uther’s permission, however much she hated it. It was the only way that she could leave the castle, and the only way she could safely deviate from her travels and seek out what she really wanted. Her thoughts pulled her into a certain direction already, and she was eager to follow.

Uther wasn’t getting any response from her, so he reached out a hand towards her hair.

Shocked and disgusted, she spoke up. “I’m just so very hurt by all these deaths. It wounds me to see them wounded. It strangles my very soul. Who prays for them?”

As if touched, which Morgana didn’t believe for a second, Uther knelt by her side dramatically. “I understand,” he said, looking up at her in earnest. “You mustn’t fret, we are still not defeated.”

“Seeing all of these poor, wounded people, it is worse than my nightmares,” she implored him, begging with her eyes. “Make it stop. I am wounded, I need relief.”

“Of course, my dear.” He stood up, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “I don’t want you tending to the sick anymore.”

“Oh, I will be by Gaius’ side,” she said defiantly. “Until this is over. He cannot possibly cope with the amount of wounded people and I feel wrong to tax him so.”

“I will get someone else to help him and that is final,” he said, as if everything he told her would be automatically assumed. She really had been almost entirely asleep these past years.

“Yes, sire.” If she was going to conquer this, if she was going to get out, then she would need to overcome her fears. “I will be in my room, praying for everyone,” she added, putting the last piece of her plan into place.

“Get some rest. Goodnight, Morgana.”

“Goodbye.”

  
**\-----108 Merlin------**

“No, it can’t be!” Merlin looked Balinor up and down. His ears had heard the words Arthur spoke, but his brain wasn’t accepting it. “Not him,” he said to Arthur.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Balinor said in Arthur’s direction, equally distressed.

“Merlin is Hunith’s son, her only son. Merlin, you’re what, nineteen?”

“Almost twenty,” Merlin said and got up. Twenty years the dragon had been imprisoned. His world was falling apart and he felt dizzy. “You’re mad. Balinor is not my father.”

“And why not?” Arthur said.

“Because,” Merlin began and faltered right away. He looked at the old man with his long black hair and dark beard. The man who he had thought about all his life, and never imagined to be someone like this. It was impossible to consider that this person existed and that it was Balinor. “Because if he was, I should imagine there would be something I could recognize.”

With that dismissal, he got up and strolled past the fire, ignoring Arthur calling his name. He left the cave, his legs sore from the long days of riding, and lack of sleep. But he didn’t care.

“Where are you going?” Arthur called.

“I’m going to check on the horses. I don’t care. He’s not my father.” He wasn’t the man who Hunith said was dead. He wasn’t the man who had left them behind.

He looked over his shoulder to see Arthur standing on the ledge to the cave. Arthur didn’t follow him, and wasn’t reining him in. Merlin was satisfied with that. If Arthur encroached on him now, he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

As he walked, emotions soared through him vehemently, and tears threatened to spill each step, but they didn’t. The walking did him good and the sun over his head did too. He felt torn inside and out at this revelation. His father was alive, had been alive for all these years.

He had a _father_.

Without realizing it, he had already acknowledged the truth of it. This was the person for whom Hunith had kept herself all these years. This was the person who should have taught him about the world, who could have taught him about magic, shown him how not to be worried about it while he grew up. The person who had instead called him an idiot multiple times in a single night, looked down on him as if he was a disappointment, and who underestimated him even worse than most people did.

Merlin stomped through the woods in a blind rage. His mother must have known that Balinor lived, she had received a letter after all. Gaius must have known, or at least suspected who his father was, and never said a word. He was angry with them too.

It was preposterous, he knew. He had grown up without a father and that was that. He had always wished for one, but this man did not fit the bill. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t feel this heavily about a person he had never met. He blinked his tears away and jumped over the stream, approaching their horses, who trotted up to him eagerly, pulling on their long leashes. He thought about his younger self who would probably shout at him to at least be grateful, but he felt none of that.

The fact was that it _did_ matter. And his fragile pride was heavily wounded. The only thing he had thought about while growing up, as he hid his magic, was making his father proud of what he could do. Surely, he, of all people, would have understood. He had dreamed about what it would be like. His father would encourage his magic, instead of telling him to hide it like Hunith did. His father wouldn’t be a hothead like Will’s father had been. He wouldn’t have been a drunkard like Simmons, and he certainly wouldn’t have been a bitter tyrant like Uther. But perhaps, in comparing all these men, Balinor was most like Uther after all. Perhaps that was what hurt so much.

What they had found was not a dragonlord, but an empty shell of a man who had left everything behind in order to live a life of solitude in the mountains. He had lost the love of his life, and in that lost the chance to raise his son. He hadn’t chosen to confront Uther, he hadn’t chosen to find a way to free the dragon, and he hadn’t chosen to seek Hunith out either. He had neglected to aim for any of the goals that mattered to him, and instead called the world out in spite, incapable of love and determined to hate everyone.

He felt a nudge at his side, and his heart jumped when he thought perhaps it was Balinor who came to apologize. It was Royse who knocked his head against Merlin’s shoulder blade, while Merlin had been lost in thought. He patted the horse and Thorunn joined them, blocking his view, as if empathically shielding him from the violent emotions that connected him to the path he came from. It allowed him to breathe calmly again, collect himself, and consider his priorities.

Merlin set his mind to work, got out the stashed saddles and saddlebags and began to brush down the horses, taking his time. He was determined not to care about Balinor. The man wouldn’t help them anyway. He understood that now. He needed to learn from Balinor what he could, and go back to Camelot to do it himself. He always ended up doing things himself after all. And there was no way _he_ was ever going to go into hiding, forsaking the city and its people, leaving loved ones behind in order to avoid his guilt.

  
**\-----109 Arthur-----**

He watched Merlin leave and decided to give him some time to come to terms with this new information. It wasn’t confirmed. Balinor hadn’t said a word about it. And yet it was Balinor’s silence which convinced Arthur most of all.

He sat back down and finished up his portion of food, eyeing the sullen man before him. The bitterness had been replaced by defeated submission. If the man understood the consequences of his path in life, then this was a moment he ought not to be disturbed. Arthur left the man to himself for a full seven minutes, he couldn’t really be expected to offer more, and stirred the fire back up, saying, “I take it you never knew?”

He couldn’t help himself. As the man looked in his direction and creased his brow, he found that in his gesture he looked like Merlin. Perhaps he was imagining things, perhaps he only wanted to see it there.

“You don’t really believe it, do you?” Balinor asked. His voice was deep and gruff, already exhausted from a night of talking, after ages of disuse.

Arthur raised a brow. Perhaps there was some decency left in this man. “Hunith may have had another lover, a different sorcerer. But having met her, that seems highly doubtful to me. She is a respectable woman.”

“You have met her? When? How is she?”

“She lives independently, I believe it is her family home. She’s in good health and very hospitable. Frankly, I see a lot of her in Merlin.” He looked out over the valley and added, “I also have a suspicion that she’s the one who taught Merlin his letters. He writes well.”

“I don’t know what it’s like to have a son.”

“Nor he a father. Gaius takes care of him to the best of his abilities.”

“And you?”

“Well,” he began, trying to hide a stupid grin that threatened to spread across his face, “I give him a hard time, usually. Just so that he doesn’t take everything so seriously. Trust me, it’s doing him a world of good.”

“Merlin,” Balinor said. The name rolled out of his mouth uneasily, uttered for the first time. “Tell me about him.”

Arthur lifted a brow. “I’m a prince. I have traveled and I have spoken to many kings, queens, and nobles. I train all of our knights, who are noble sons.” Balinor was regarding him stoically. “And yet, among all my acquaintances, none are as honorable and reliable as Merlin. If you know that, you should know enough.”

“He has no patience...”

“Each minute that I sit here, I think about one of the faces I will never see again. Burned by the dragon’s fire. We really do need your help. If you want to avoid court, I would understand. Just please—”

“I will not do it. I will not share the dragon magic. The knowledge that another is in this world with the ability… it undoes everything. A dragonlord would not exist if there wasn’t a dragon. Kilgharrah is old. What if there is another dragon in the world after that, then that one would be the last of their kin. I cannot do it. I cannot treat them this way.”

“How exactly do you envision the world?”

“What, you mean today? There is no place for dragons or dragonlords. And Emrys hasn’t risen yet.”

Arthur looked up sharply. “I’ve heard that name, what do you know about him?”

Balinor narrowed his eyes. “Emrys is a promise that reshapes the world. If you have not met him yet, perhaps he is waiting for you to be ready. Do not dwell on it and do not search him.”

Arthur sat back and pondered. He stared into the flames. “If the world reshapes, what will you do?”

“I don’t want any part of it. That time is gone. I answer to no one.”

“Yes, I noticed that you have not answered Morgause’s call to battle. I suppose I should be grateful for that. She’s planning to expand Cenred’s territory. Many more of our people will perish in the battles to come. But that’s war, there’s a difference.”

“I have no love for Essetir, I have seen kings come and go. Besides, that’s not what I meant. If I go out there to help you, then the people will know a dragon and his dragonlord are back in the world. That means Uther, your father, will hunt me again. And it means Nimueh will be able to exact her revenge.”

He shifted uneasily at the mention of his father. The man’s terrorization had far reaching consequences, much further than Arthur had ever realized. It bothered him greatly that Camelot was seen this way. “Nimueh is gone, killed, over a year ago,” Arthur said.

“What? Impossible! She was too strong.”

The damned grin threatened to pull his face into a smirk again. Fortunately Merlin was just returning and he had brought the horses with him. “Guess who defeated her?” he prompted and got up, not waiting for an answer. He trotted down to Merlin instead.

“All right, Merlin?”

Merlin nodded, staring into the trees evasively.

“I think we’re getting close to convincing him.” He put a hand on his hip.

“Arthur—” Merlin looked up and jutted his chin. “It’s alright. No matter who he is. If we need his help, I’m there for you. And for Camelot.”

Arthur put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, though what he really wanted was to embrace him and kiss his doubts away. He was conscious that they might be observed from the cave entrance. “Don’t you think for a moment that I doubted you. Now come and pack, we need to use the daylight to travel.”

  
**\-----110 Merlin-----**

When they ascended to the cave again, they found that Balinor was trying to dislodge his knife from the cave wall using magic. He took a step back as the two young men passed and began packing, and tried a different spell, muttering under his breath.

Merlin didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to. This man was a complete disappointment and it tore him up to even think so. The elation and gratitude that he _should_ be feeling about the man being still alive, was absent. He rolled up his bedroll and stuffed it into the bag, then gathered the rest of their items with his magic.

Balinor still hadn’t freed his knife.

At last, Merlin lifted a hand and the knife fell as if on cue out of the crack in the cave and onto the ground. He couldn’t tell whether Balinor was incapable or unpracticed. Perhaps Merlin’s own willfulness had lodged it in there more thoroughly than he had anticipated.

When Balinor looked up at him grimly, Merlin said, “Farewell then.”

“Merlin!” Arthur complained.

“You think you can anticipate me now?” Balinor growled at the same time.

“He won’t do it, Arthur.” Merlin stood upright with his pack and doused the flames from afar. He eyed Balinor challengingly. He was certain that the man would refuse to help, even if they asked him, no matter in how many ways they formulated their plea. “He’s not going to give us any help.”

Balinor lifted his knife and aimed it in Merlin’s direction. “I won’t give you what you want. I won’t pass on the dragon magic.”

“I didn’t come for that! And I haven’t asked you for that. You’re just a paranoid, old man.”

“Don’t think just because I might be your father, that you know me now,” Balinor warned.

“I know who you’re supposed to be. I thought you’d be… something more.” He shrugged the hand on his arm away, where Arthur tugged at him. This was his conflict.

“Who do you think you are to judge me!” Balinor shouted suddenly.

Merlin stood upright and jutted his chin. “A better man than you. All you can possibly think about is yourself. Well, let me tell you, I have been brought up by Hunith to think about anyone except myself. I’ve had to hide my magic, hide who I am to the core of my being. Always in consideration of others. And I have had to work for every ounce of respect that I will never get. Always, always hiding. But I don’t turn my back on the people who need me. Ever. Whether I know them or not, I make no distinction. That is what having magic means to me. You can wallow away and offer your bones to the mountains that have cradled you for all I care. You will not be remembered.”

“How dare you speak to me this way!”

“And why shouldn’t I? You are nothing to me. You have forsaken everything in the world. Why should I expect you to do what you were born to do. A noble dragonlord. You can hide in shame and welcome death. Who knows, perhaps Kilgharrah won’t know you anymore.”

“Merlin, this isn’t helping!” Arthur shouted, coming to stand between the two men.

“All he cares about is Uther. He is living in the past. Don’t you see that I can’t do that? And now he has given me another secret to carry because I can never tell my mother about him! Not what he became!”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” Arthur told him, absurdly. He approached Merlin as if there was something wrong with _him_. Merlin shook his head as he saw Arthur stepping towards him. He only took one step back, before he thought, _what am I doing?_ He trusted Arthur. Hands pulled him close and gathered him up. Arthur was giving him a hug, nothing like their private ones but a hug nonetheless. “It’s alright,” he said again.

Merlin put his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and exhaled, closing his eyes. Arthur was steady, solid, and warm, and he dug his fingers into Arthur’s back. When he pulled back, he got a quick nod. Without words, Arthur’s eyes told him that he supported him.

Arthur turned to the man and said, “It doesn’t matter which legacy you intended to let fade away. We are here now. We will not join the battles our fathers fought, that was their time. We have chosen to face dangers side by side.”

Merlin didn’t know what to add to that. He stood beside Arthur and eyed the smouldering remains of the campfire. He was aware of Balinor’s eyes on him, judging, weighing. He didn’t falter from it, but instead met his gaze. He wasn’t afraid of the man, only of what he might see there. But he would see it nonetheless.

“I won’t pass you the magic,” Balinor said. Merlin felt his heart thud loudly in his chest when Balinor spoke again, “But I will come and get Kilgharrah. I can’t do it from here, I need to be closer.”

Arthur was the one who replied, “Then let us travel to Camelot. You have our protection until you depart, we give you our word.”

For a moment Merlin couldn’t hear or speak. He wasn’t certain how the world had just shifted. Arthur’s hand on his arm was steady.

“Right, Merlin?” Arthur asked him in confirmation.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“After that, I make my way, unhindered.”

“Naturally,” Arthur said. He reached out an arm to shake Balinor’s. The man hesitated for a few more moments, sheathed his knife back into the carrier, and shook it.

  
***

They rode several hours in silence. Balinor rode on Royse, who had instantly taken a keen interest in the man. Merlin considered the beast quite the traitor. Merlin and Arthur rode on Thorunn, who trotted steadily with their combined weight. Arthur held the reins and Merlin sat behind him, holding on to the saddle straps.

They rode all the way back to Engerd in order to arrange a third horse. Riding double meant that they couldn’t ride fast, and precious minutes were lost now that they finally had Balinor on their side. Merlin hoped that they would get there soon because sitting packed tight on their saddle and pressed against Arthur’s wonderful arse, he was quickly feeling himself swell. It didn’t take long before Arthur glanced back over his shoulder.

Merlin mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and felt the heat rise to his cheeks. The rhythm of the horse was rocking them together and it felt far more delicious than it should. Regarding Arthur’s broad shoulders, as well as the way he balanced his hips expertly on the horse, were doing all sorts of inappropriate things to him.

“Really, Merlin?” Arthur said incredulously.

“What is it?” Balinor asked and Merlin turned his head away.

“Merlin’s hungry again,” Arthur fabricated quickly. “Hungry as a wolf, this one.” And to Merlin he whispered, “I am never going to let you live this down, you know that, right?”

“Shut up.” Merlin could barely even get his brain to function. The only thing he knew was that this, more than their hunting trip, was definitely the worst moment ever to have his body respond. Fortunately the route downhill to Engerd was easier, and the weather had turned mild and overcast, with very little wind. They traveled without complications.

The third horse they got was fresh and energetic. Merlin watched Balinor saddle the beast with a calm authority and a respect for the animal, which made him wonder. Balinor caught him looking, and Merlin focused instead on tilting the bucket, filling the trough with water. He wasn’t hard anymore, which was a relief, but he still felt on edge. Somehow he felt as if he needed to prove himself to that man, even though it was absurd.

“Ask me what you want to ask, boy,” Balinor said, having notice Merlin’s sulky behavior. It wasn’t friendly but it certainly wasn’t the opposite either.

He blinked and looked back up. It was a strange notion that Balinor was telling him to talk. The impatient lift of the man’s eyebrows was almost something he recognized. Merlin swallowed. “I was just thinking… lots of things in my life seem to happen for a reason. I think that perhaps I was meant to find you.”

“You want to put Arthur on the throne, don’t you? Is that for a reason too?”

Merlin looked around to see where Arthur was and assumed that he had gone inside to arrange payment for the use of their third horse. “Did Kilgharrah ever share his visions with you? Or prophecies?”

“You shouldn’t put too much credence in those,” Balinor said. “They never tell the whole truth.”

“Arthur will be king, I’m certain of that.”

“I’ve heard the same. That doesn’t mean there is a single path to get there, or that it will actually happen. You can’t stare yourself blind on what should happen, simply to make it happen.”

Merlin considered this. It still didn’t free him from the burden of Arthur’s care, but it did allow him to try and evaluate the loose bits of information about the events that he knew so far. He offered a small smile, which seemed to surprise Balinor, who strapped the saddle tightly and eased the horse by stroking its side.

“What made you change your mind?” Merlin asked boldly. He wanted to ask him now, before they proceeded. He only had Uther’s word that Balinor would be allowed into the city to help them, nothing beyond that. But he already knew, if anything happened to Balinor, he would do everything in his power to protect him.

“Is it true that you defeated the sorceress Nimueh?” Balinor asked, and eyed him sternly with his lips pressed together.

“I did what I had to do,” he evaded. His voice was small, and he knew that, but the risks of speaking about these things were still very real. Balinor had been summoned by her, only to be turned against her through contract. It must have been a very hard time.

“Then you have potentially saved me already.”

Merlin shook his head and led Thorunn to the trough to drink. “I didn’t do it for you. She was dangerous and twisted. You don’t owe me.”

“I see her in you,” Balinor said. “Very little of me. Keep it that way.”

He felt a thrill traveling down his spine when Balinor uttered his recognition of Merlin as his son. “When you left her,” Merlin pushed, licking his lips. He wasn’t certain if he could say this. “Was it at midsummer?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because she gets sad.”

The man swallowed and turned away from him. Merlin had seen enough pain flashing through his eyes to see acknowledgement. It struck him with a pang, to think back to his mother’s sadness and distant gazes when the village was feasting every year. She never spoke about it, but Merlin had always known that that was when she had lost him.

“Has she ever married again?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, never. I thought Simmons would propose at one point, but… I’m glad he didn’t. I think she scared him too much for that.”

Balinor shot him a small glance with a hint of humor in his eyes. “I remember him.”

“I nearly dropped a tree on his house once with my magic,” he offered. “She had my hide when she found out.”

Balinor chuckled and the sound was deep and warm. Merlin was perplexed at first, but grinned back at last. It shouldn’t feel so unreal, but it did. Even more so when he spotted Arthur in the door opening to the stables, regarding him with a guarded smile and with a gaze filled with with love and pride. Just for a moment, until Balinor turned to regard him. What they had, they couldn’t share it, not even with Balinor.

“Well, everything’s arranged. We can head out. The sooner the better.” Arthur shoved the papers into Merlin’s hands and took Thorunn’s reins without a word, leading him outside. Once they distributed the packs and saddlebags, and Arthur quickly laid out the route, they took to the main road and traveled fast, pushing their horses to cross the distance quickly.

With each passing minute, Merlin felt the pressure building. What would they encounter? How many more would be dead? Would the city burn, or would they encounter something different? Would the dragon have given up? Would Uther still be alive? Or any of the others they cared for? It was nerve-wracking.

At last they crossed the border into Camelot and from that point on Balinor’s attitude changed again. Whatever pleasantness they had shared at Engerd was turning more bitter by the minute. His look was dark and forbidding. They crossed the lowlands and faced a darkening sky with very little sun as the citadel came into view over the horizon of a hill.

The city was surrounded in smoke, and there was very little to see. Immediately, Merlin feared the worst. Above the city, the dragon was flying in circles. He wasn’t attacking, it seemed, but searching for something. Or someone. Merlin frowned and beside him he heard Balinor gasp. When he glanced to his father, he saw a fiery interest in his eyes. He was a dragonlord after all.

Balinor got off his horse and eyed the ground around him. He looked at the low rolling hills, the open fields and the surrounding woodland. He regarded the darkening skies and held out his hands. Merlin felt a prickle to his skin. “Let’s move away,” he said to Arthur. They gave Balinor some room and the man spoke in a tongue that Merlin had never heard.

An echoing rumble rolled through the earth, making Royse balk in fear. The horse from Engerd ran away, kicking the air. Merlin steadied Royse, but the rumble grew louder until Merlin realized it was Balinor’s voice.

“ _Ooo drakon, fthengomai au se kalon su katerkheo deuro_!” Balinor threw his head back and held his arms out wide, as if summoning an old family member into an embrace. He shouted the last words at the sky.

In the distance, Merlin saw that the dragon was turning in the sky and now flew in their direction. His wings flapped swiftly and he seemed to quickly cross the distance, much quicker than Merlin thought should be possible. He was apprehensive of the dragon’s current state of being, so he held out a hand in Arthur’s direction for them to give even more berth. They almost retreated all the way back into the woodland they had emerged from.

In less than three minutes, the great beast landed in front of Balinor and lowered his head submissively to the man. Balinor stepped forward and put a hand on his nose. Balinor’s eyes were alight, golden just like the dragon’s. They seemed to be speaking.

“What do we do now, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t know. But I’m not certain of the dragon right now. We have to be careful.”

No matter how careful they had been, or how much time they had taken out to find this man and push their journey home. No matter how scared they had been for their friends. If Merlin had known what Balinor would do, he would never have fought so hard to bring him along. Balinor seated himself at Kilgharrah’s neck, turn around, and flew back into the direction of the citadel.

Merlin and Arthur stared in horror.

Morgana’s words rang through Merlin’s head. “ _No, the fire comes from above. It rains down. I think there’s something else but I wake up each time before I can see it. It’s terrifying. And then the fire returns._ ”

_“And then the fire returns.”_

_“The fire, it keeps coming back. Please, make it stop!”_

“No!!”

  
**\-----111 Arthur-----**

Balinor had betrayed them.

The dragon flew higher and higher over the woodland, crossing the distance swiftly back to the castle.

“Balinor!” Arthur yelled out, distraught. He pushed his horse forward, hoping that the beast could handle one last sprint to the castle. Balinor and the dragon were attacking together. “Come on, Merlin,” he rushed the other, who stared, perplexed. Merlin slowly turned his head towards him, and Arthur could see how broken he was. “This is not the time for delay. We have to move, now!”

“Yes, sire,” came Merlin’s response, and Arthur could only imagine that Merlin was shocked beyond his wits for addressing him like that. But once Merlin ushered Royse back into motion, and magically got hold of the reins of their borrowed horse, they were quickly on their way.

As they rushed across the roads, their horses frothing at the mouth and their legs more than sore from keeping themselves stable, Arthur heard words spoken. When he glanced beside him, Merlin was chanting under his breath, his eyes ablaze without pause. Whatever he was doing, it was a constant force, and Arthur felt the winds rolling towards them from behind, pushing them along. He felt the horse glide more easily across the landscape and saw obstacles, fallen branches, and stones being shoved aside. Puddles instantly dried. Anything to speed them up.

“Don’t exhaust yourself, I’ll need you once we get there to—” His voice faltered.

“I know,” Merlin said.

Whenever they caught a glimpse of the castle, they saw fire raining down. There was no end to the jet of light emerging from Kilgharrah’s mouth. The man riding on his neck looked small by comparison. Two towers were already alight, and a third one was under attack. They saw many flaming arrows once more, aimed at the dragon and at its rider. Kilgharrah flew on and his fire reached the soldiers.

“We won’t make it in time!” Merlin wailed.

They had reached the outer edges of the city walls. The front gate was on fire and there were many people hiding right outside of it. Even if Merlin could douse the fires, he would be seen. Arthur couldn’t risk it. They would have to travel all the way around to get inside. “Is there nothing you can do? Can’t you stop the flow of things?”

“It wouldn’t help. Even if I do, I can’t defeat the dragon. We’d be on foot, the horses wouldn’t be able to come with us. No arrow, sword, or spear can hurt it!”

Arthur uttered a howl of frustration and slowed his exhausted horse. “We need to lure it away from the city!” He regarded Merlin hopelessly. “There has to be something. Anything.”

“Perhaps…”

“Anything, Merlin.”

Merlin frowned and looked down.

Noticing Merlin’s stress, Arthur grew agitated. “I am _not_ handing over my father, Merlin.” When he saw the other’s surprise, he knew that wasn’t what he was so worried about.

“What sort of kingdom would you start if you did?” Merlin asked, looking up at the sky. Arthur understood that Merlin was asking himself the same question.

Then Merlin descended from his horse and walked out to the open field behind them to take a better look. Arthur saw him staring up at the sky, following the dragon’s movement. When he turned his head to glance up, the dragon was preparing for a dive once more.

The earth rumbled and the sky seemed to hang still for just a moment. Thorunn balked and Arthur steadied him. He saw how Merlin threw his head back and aimed his roar at the sky. It sounded nearly the same as when Balinor had called the dragon to him, except it took longer and shook deeper. Rocks and trees rattled, and birds flew away in panic. What came out of Merlin’s throat was a terrifying roar.

“Ooh, Balinor! Hear me! If I am your kin, I summon you!” The voice was not Merlin’s, and at the same time it was. It was a deep, earthy rumble, echoing across the fields.

And the dragon seemed to respond. The fire stopped raining down and the beast’s large head turned towards them just as another batch of arrows was being shot towards them. They scattered all over the dragon, failing to harm the beast. It was now flying towards Merlin, who stood in the field, wide-eyed, and looking quite uncertain of what he had done.

“Arthur, get out of here. Get the knights. I can’t be seen, you have to be the one to do this. You’ve got to!”

“There’s no way, I am leaving you behind, Merlin!”

“I’ll be fine!”

“I have to travel around! I won’t be back in time!” They could hear the flapping of wings in the distance already.

“That won’t be a problem, take the main gate. Go, now! Please!”

A gust of wind swirled around and began to whisper through the empty tree branches. It picked up rapidly, as if it had been a windy day. Arthur turned his horse around, carried the reins of the two others, and sped up the slope towards the gate. Once he was close to the ramparts, he jumped down and handed the horses to a cowering city guard. He glanced around to find a great number of townspeople, his people, all cowering behind the stone walls, having escaped the city. They were waiting for the fires to go out before going back in.

The wind was rapidly removing the fire around the gate, and although the wooden door looked severely damaged, it was stable enough and opened enough to go through. The stench of things burning overwhelmed his senses, and he covered his nose as he stepped through. The citizens wailed as they saw him enter, fearing to discover all that they had lost and, possibly, that he might be lost to them too.

What he found was blackened streets, thatched roofs replaced by burning embers, and when he looked up, the towers alight with flames. He rushed through the empty streets, slipping on soot and almost tripping here and there over bodies. Where the people were hiding, he did not know, but everything was deserted. At one of the crossings in the middle of town he suddenly saw movement.

A cloaked figure was turning into a side street. A slender, pale hand was lifted and one by one, burning doors, barrels, and crates were doused. Then they disappeared around a corner, before Arthur even knew what he had seen. A sorceress was within the citadel. His heart skipped a beat.

But he didn’t have time to stop and consider it. He needed to keep going, and he did, running up to the royal courtyard. He looked up at the once-white castle and saw burn-marks everywhere, charred windows and doors, the burned remains of two carts, the well completely destroyed, and several balconies looking damaged by large claws. Here and there window panes were broken, and sconces along the walls held charcoal remains of what once were torches. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat and called out.

“Is anyone there?!”

From the parapets he suddenly saw faces peering out. One of them was Leon’s, he also spotted the other knights. They started cheering when they saw him and their elation was almost palpable. “The dragon is gone!” they yelled down at him.

“I need you all to come down,” Arthur said with a heavy heart. “We still have a battle to fight.”

  
**\-----112 Merlin-----**

Merlin had run out across the open field, putting more distance between himself and the city. The sky was darkening, thick clouds formed aimlessly, and a slight wind had picked up more steadily, without any of Merlin’s further assistance. A storm was brewing.

The dragon flew toward him. Merlin could see its golden eyes blazing through the night sky, full of energy and rage. It circled around him once before something fell off his back, dropping towards the ground.

With shock, Merlin realized that it must be Balinor. Without even thinking twice, he stopped Balinor’s fall and lowered him gently to the ground. He ran towards the man, while the dragon circled over them high in the sky.

“You stupid boy,” the man said with a broken voice. “You are too late.”

“What did you do?!” Merlin said aghast. But then he saw the arrows sticking out of Balinor’s side and back. Leon and the other knights and soldiers had used their crossbows, and their arrows had hit home.

“We all want the same thing,” Balinor explained. “You are just too young to understand.”

“I don’t want any of this!” Merlin exclaimed.

Balinor laughed cruelly. “The dragon’s anger and my own are the same. This is what we have to do. How else is Arthur ever going to fulfill his destiny? You said you knew it yourself.”

“You can’t use force to bring destiny about…” Merlin said, and tears were welling in his eyes. He never wanted to stand against this man, against the last dragonlord, against his father. But he couldn’t have let the man do what he did. He tried to pull on one of the arrows, but Balinor grabbed his wrist.

“You are worried about the same people who come to watch the burnings, as they have done for decades. What do you think will change now?”

“You’ve made it worse! You betrayed us! Now all the people will certainly think that a dragonlord is evil, that a dragon can only destroy.”

“If you’re not willing to fight—”

“I am fighting all the time! You just don’t understand.”

“Just stop it. You are not the one supposed to protect Arthur.”

“I would die for Arthur,” Merlin said and swallowed when he realized what he’d just admitted. He wouldn’t expect his father to understand. Any sort of affection the man might have felt in the past was already gone. He was an empty shell. “Let me try to heal you…”

“Listen to me!” Balinor called out, still clenching Merlin’s wrist. “You must seek out a man who will help him. He is said to live among the druids.”

Merlin shook his head, and he felt his chin tremble. Balinor knew what had to happen. Had always known. If only the man could have been a father to him, he might have understood what it all meant. “Emrys…”

“Then you know you must seek him,” Balinor looked up at him in earnest. “He will do right by this land.”

He was unable to hold back his tears. Merlin picked Balinor’s hand off his wrist and held it in his own. It was the first time he had any meaningful physical contact with his father. His father who lay dying. “Last year a druid boy called out to me, without words. He called me Emrys, told me it is my name.”

Instantly Balinor tried to sit up, but found that it was too painful. “You?”

“I don’t understand it yet. Tell me, please. You have to tell me…”

“You are Emrys?” His eyes were wide and to Merlin’s exasperation, there was still disappointment in Balinor’s expression.

“What does it mean, father?” It felt bizarre to say the word, but perhaps he would never have another chance to call him that.

“Emrys is more than a name, it is a title.” He lay back against the ground. “Oh, what have I done…”

“Let me help you, let me heal you, _please_.”

“I am not part of this world, Merlin. I haven’t been for a long time. I understand that now.”

“Why not?”

“I escaped when all my kin could not. I never knew for what reason. I always thought I needed to do right by Kilgharrah and end it all. Waiting for all of the dragon magic to die out in the world.”

Merlin wiped his cheeks. “I don’t want you to die. I can’t do it alone.”

Balinor offered him a wan smile. “I should have trusted my real kin. But I could not… You need to take my gift. I give it to you willingly.”

He felt as if he couldn’t breathe. After only just getting to know his father, after hearing his words, he couldn’t believe what the man was offering. “No, I can’t ask you for that.”

“Don’t let hate consume you, Merlin. There is only emptiness. It will ruin you like it ruined me.” Balinor looked up at the sky, at the dragon circling over him. “The only thing I can do right by you is to pass on the magic of the dragons. You have the talent, but I can only pass it onto you entirely in death. That is how it works. I am not afraid.”

“I don’t understand, what must I do?”

“You will be Kilgharrah’s dragonlord. Promise me to end his suffering, make sure that he becomes part of the land again. You must promise me this. For he will be your kin, if you can call him to you, by yourself.”

Merlin nodded. “I promise.” He also knew that if he could do that, he would take a completely different approach to Balinor’s. He needed to do it his way. But he would do what Balinor asked, even if it took him a hundred years, or more. “I swear it.”

Balinor coughed and made a pained expression. “When you face the dragon, remember: be strong. A dragon's heart is on its right side, not its left.” He reached into his inner pocket and took out a small wooden statue, carved with a crude knife. It was an idol of a dragon, the woodwork almost white in color and solidly made. Balinor pressed it into Merlin’s hands and folded his fingers over it, then held his own hands over that. “Remember, you are to rule over the dragon. He must obey your will. _Ic thu begalan, ic þín sáwol hér beléac, teosu hus abide eom ala!_ ” Balinor’s hands began to glow.

Merlin felt the power seeping into him, through his very soul. His father’s magic. The dragon above cried out in acknowledgment of the magic’s presence. “There’s so much I need to learn from you,” he said, unable to contain his grief. It cut him deeply. He had only just learned that the man existed.

Balinor shook his head. He was turning pale and his dark fur tunic was soaked with blood. “Tell Hunith something good about me, please, even if you need to lie.” He offered a small smile.

Even as Merlin understood that Balinor could not love her anymore, he would pass on the message to his mother. He had lived, and he had passed what he had on to Merlin. That was what he had needed to do. It offered Merlin no peace, none at all. “I wish I could have known you. That I could have saved you.”

“Oh, my son, you have saved me already, in more ways than one. I've seen enough in you to know that you will make me proud.”

The grip of Balinor’s hands fell away slowly and his head lolled back onto the ground. Merlin leaned over his father’s body and wailed, deeply sorrowful, and breathless. His father was dead. He cried until his body shook, suffering the unfairness of knowing this man less than a day and losing him already. He cried for the ages of the world after Balinor’s death that the man would never come to see; the peace promised by the prophecy, the peace Balinor would never know. He leaned his forehead against Balinor’s and vowed to the sky, the earth, and the seas that he would fulfill his promise, do right by Kilgharrah, and all magical creatures. No matter how difficult the tasks laid before him, or how much he would suffer, he would do what he had to.

As Kilgharrah acknowledged his master’s death, a deeply sad roar swept over the open field. Merlin now knew that he, too, was suffering.

A horn blew in Merlin’s vicinity and he heard the galloping of hooves coming towards him. The dragon screeched and descended. Merlin saw Arthur and the knights, all in full armor and carrying heavy shields, galloping towards them. There were six of them, likely the only ones brave enough to stand against the dragon.

Merlin didn’t have time to tell Arthur what happened. He stayed beside the body of his father, pocketed the dragon idol, and held on to the man’s jacket for comfort. He couldn’t make himself stand up and move away from the man’s body. He was too broken.

And Kilgharrah was completely free.

The dragon swept low and without using fire, knocked two of the knights from the back of their hoses with his powerful tail. Arthur and the others swung their swords, and one of them his lance, and none of them could hit the beast. Kilgharrah flew another circle and swooped down low.

Merin saw how the dragon’s wing hit Arthur, and before he knew it he was on his feet. He could do this. He had to. There was no other way.

But the knights were right there.

Arthur stayed on his horse and swung his sword. Kilgharrah evaded nimbly and breathed a great fireburst, the power of which knocked a third knight off of his horse, which Merlin recognized to be Sir Leon, by his armor. The last knight, with his lance, was Sir Kay. He rode stiffly and uneasily, but charged nonetheless when the beast returned in a low dive. The spear hit the left side of the dragon’s chest and though the beast howled, he wasn’t marked or wounded.

 _It’s the other side,_ Merlin thought, but he couldn’t say it, not if he couldn’t explain where he knew it from. He was numb with fear and agony.

Only Arthur and Kay were still riding. Kay used his shield effectively to knock a blow aside from the dragon’s tail, which had been aimed to dismount him as well. The man hadn’t expected Kilgharrah’s tail to swish back the other way and hit him from behind, so he too went flying and knocked to the ground. Merlin didn’t know if any of the men were alive.

“Arthur…” Merlin’s voice felt like sawdust. He tried again. “Arthur!”

Kilgharrah roared above them and took a dive. Arthur held up his sword, steadying the horse he was riding as best as he could. Merlin felt useless. He saw his vision blur with tears, right as the dragon opened his mouth. _No!_ Merlin thought. _Not Arthur. You won’t have him!_

But right as Merlin lifted his hand to do a spell, the horse reared and threw Arthur backwards. Merlin was only able to cushion his fall at the last moment and the prince was bathed in fire, protected only by his large shield, which he lifted at the last moment. Merlin thought his heart would stop, seeing nothing but flames for several seconds. He shook his numbness off and ran towards the prince, while the dragon prepared his next attack.

“This has to stop!” Merlin yelled at the dragon, coming to stand in front of Arthur. Behind them a wall of flame was roaring away, separating them from the other unconscious or dead knights. With the dragon diving directly towards them again, they had nowhere to go.

Arthur pushed against Merlin’s shoulder, came to stand in front of him, and held his shield up. “Merlin, stay down!” Arthur yelled, trying to keep an eye on his servant as well as the raging dragon closing in on them. His helmet was knocked away with the sweep of Kilgharrah’s tail and clanged onto the earth somewhere on the other side of the wall of fire.

“No, Arthur,” Merlin said and stepped aside. The dragon made a very short turn, curling its body back in their direction. He looked up at the creature with a frown and shouted at it, “I cannot let you continue to destroy Camelot! This ends now!”

The dragon roared loudly and opened his maw. He landed in front of them and took several large steps forwards but stopped in a feint.

Arthur had lifted the shield, but Merlin went out to stand in front of the prince. “Look at you now, you have been trying to undo the prophecy from the start. But you cannot kill Arthur and you cannot kill me. You already know this. You cannot even kill Uther. You are bound to it as much as I am!” His voice was broken and raw as he spoke.

Arthur stood with his sword raised and the fire roaring around him, which lifted his hair in various directions. “Merlin, why the hell are you talking to it?”

The dragon lifted his large head and roared up at the sky, flapping its wings irritably. His tail swished angrily from side to side. The deepest possible growl roared over the field. “Merlin…”

Arthur was taken entirely by surprise. “It talks?!”

Merlin stood right in front of Arthur and shouted, “I will not let you do any more harm!” He lifted a hand as if he were to cast a spell.

“I am free! You cannot stop me!” The dragon’s deep voice was clear and cruel. His breath began to burn, sending shivers of steam through the air.

“Watch me!” Merlin countered. He needed to do this. For his father lying dead in the field, for all the other dragonlords. He was the last of them now, and he would do what he had to.

The dragon reared itself and flapped its wings.

“Watch out!” Arthur yelled.

Merlin threw his head back, his eyes glowing gold. Around them the ground began to rumble, shaking through the field and the forests around them. The rumble centered around Merlin and became a low, powerful booming bellow, “ _Oo Dracan! Nán dyd ?lc áciere miss! Eftsíðas eom ála cræt! Géate' st?r ábære gárr?s! Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice. Car grise áþes._ ” His voice broke off at the end in soft whispers.

Arthur stared, with his sword still held high. He stood with his feet wide apart against the trembling ground, and looked at Merlin with wide eyes.

The dragon stepped back down and folded his wings. His large claws scratched at the earth angrily. “What have you done?!” His angry, golden eyes focused on Merlin.

“You still stand down,” Merlin warned. “You will not attack Camelot, you will not attack me, Arthur, or the knights. You will cease your revenge on King Uther. I command it!”

The dragon moved forward and slammed its claws on the ground in front of them in frustration. Arthur fell back against the ground. The dragon’s breath was almost against their skin, but Merlin kept his footing and did not back away from it.

“You have revealed yourself!” The dragon sounded upset. “This is not how it should be!”

Merlin glanced briefly at Arthur over his shoulder and took a step towards the dragon, ignoring the fiery heat around them. “You are wrong. Arthur has known about me for some time. You weren’t aware. That means your prophecies have their limit. You cannot see beyond what is shown. You are blind to the ways of the world!”

The dragon growled deeply in their direction, fanning the flames away, which pulled the skin on their cheeks taut with heat. “Do not pretend that you know me!”

“Kilgharrah, that is your name. I know it now. Stand down!” Merlin commanded once more.

At last, Kilgharrah folded his wings and curled his tail inward. He lowered his head submissively. “It is as you wish.”

Arthur stuck his sword into the ground in anger and started to get up. “You could do that, all this time? Why didn’t you—?”

He swallowed. “No, I could not. Balinor is dead, I received his powers.”

“Balinor?” Arthur asked. “He gave you his magic?”

Merlin pressed his lips together and stared hard, cold. “He bestowed it willingly and chose his death.” He reached out a hand and helped Arthur to his feet. The fires around them still roared, but other than that they were surrounded by the darkness of night.

“This sort of magic is only passed from father to son!” The dragon flapped his wings.

Arthur dusted himself off, while Merlin threw a wretched look in Kilgharrah’s direction. “I know.” His throat felt dry.

The large golden eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “I see the truth now, he was your father.”

Merlin felt his tears welling up again. Arthur shot him a look of pity. “It was Balinor’s hatred that fueled your attack, wasn’t it?” Merlin demanded of Kilgharrah.

“Because of my father?” Arthur concluded. “Can you make him stop?”

Merlin bit back his feelings. “Kilgharrah is under my control now. He will not attack anymore.” He felt the dragon’s fierce yearning as a desperate pull within him and he countered it with his own sense of protection and guardianship. Nothing within Merlin sought hateful revenge. Kilgharrah would not find this sensation mirrored.

“I have not yet had my revenge,” Kilgharrah complained. “You cannot deny me this!”

Merlin growled up at the dragon fearlessly. “You know that King Uther's reign will end. You know that Arthur will be king. That time is nearly upon you. The prophecies have not foretold that this is because of you. And yet you stand here before me trying to deny this, for what? You have tried to make me change the course of events when you _know_ them to be true! Unless you’ve lied to me again about what they say!”

The dragon lifted its head in an angry roar, “You _dare_ argue with me on hypocrisy! You, who have watched sorcerers and druids die at the stake! You, who freed Freya, and freed me, and caused so many to die. You who will not begin to shape the future!”

Merlin narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. “Kilgharrah, I am disappointed in you.”

The dragon looked at him sharply. “You are now the last dragonlord. And I am your brother. You cannot speak to me this way!”

Merlin shook his head. “Look at you now. I did not cause these deaths, I only returned the open skies to you. You are a noble beast, and yet you chose to kill hundreds of people. This is exactly what I am supposed to stop in this world.”

“You have no idea of your role in this, Merlin,” Kilgharrah warned.

Merlin pointed at the citadel. “I am supposed to _protect_!”

The dragon laughed cruelly at him. “You have certainly not done that.”

Merlin sighed and ordered at last, “You will not kill again.”

Kilgharrah regarded him for a few moments. “I would not be so certain of that,” he said at last.

“I have commanded you to stop,” Merlin said.

A toothed smile opened wide, “And you will command me to kill for you, in time.”

“I will _never_ give you that command.”

The dragon laughed again.

Arthur pushed himself in front of Merlin and took several steps forward. He looked up and addressed the dragon. “Dragon Kilgharrah. You have destroyed our city and killed many of our people. I know that we have killed your kind too. The times of conflict are behind us. I have learned that you are a noble beast and that you should be free. This is what Merlin has tried to show me. I hear your voice, I have seen your power.”

“I know exactly who and what you are, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon.”

Arthur looked around him, searching for words. “I know what my father has done. I cannot take that back.” He looked up again, standing in a broad, powerful stance. “I have seen you execute your revenge on those that did no personal harm to you. I would see you cease your actions of your own volition, if you could. Spare Camelot, spare my father. And do not blame Merlin for the new fate that has befallen you.”

The dragon tilted his head, his interest piqued. “Tell me young Pendragon, what is your stance of magic? I see you have not yet sheathed your sword.”

Arthur lifted his sword point and aimed at his scabbard. It slid down in one go. He caught Merlin’s gaze and they regarded each other for a moment. Merlin saw the trust in his eyes, saw the jut of his strong jaw, and nodded. Arthur turned his attention back to the dagon. “I know that some use it for good, and some use it to fulfill selfish or malicious goals. Tell me, Kilgharrah, which one are you?”

“Look into my eyes,” the dragon said. “Tell me if you believe in my greatness.”

Arthur swallowed. He felt a hand on his shoulder steadying him. “This I cannot tell, but I hope to deserve your allegiance one day.”

Kilgharrah looked amused, but his voice was dark. “This is not a promise I am willing to make!”

Merlin took several steps forward then and glared at the beast. “Then you are banished from Camelot!”

The dragon flapped his wings irritably. “Think about what you are doing, young warlock!”

“Arthur and Camelot are everything. And you have harmed them! Until I know who you are, until I learn once more to trust what you say, I cannot tolerate what you have done to us!”

Kilgharrah snorted. “You shall need to reflect on yourself too then, if you are to come to terms with your own fate!”

Merlin shook his head. “The times have changed, and are changing still. The path I am currently walking is exactly this path. I do not dwell solely on the past, but I look at what is around me at present. And unless you walk it with me…” He knew his words to be true, he felt it. He could not dwell on the prophecy’s words like the dragon did.

Arthur took a stand next to him and shook him out of his thoughts. Their shoulders touched.

Kilgharrah glared down at them. “I warn you, Merlin—”

Merlin shouted, “No, I warn you. When I call upon you, I will ask you the same questions over and over again, until I know who you are and what your intentions are. Your proclamations of prophecies have been false. You have requested me to kill, or to allow harm to come to those around me. You have denied me answers when I needed them. When I asked you about the prophecy...”

The dragon snarled, “You will never fully understand the prophecy!”

“I wish that you enjoy a free life, free from harming humans, and live as a dragon should live,” Merlin continued.

“Uther lives! I cannot abide it!”

“Uther will unknowingly rely on my protection until his last day!” Merlin shouted.

“He is your greatest enemy, Merlin, don't ever forget it.” Kilgharrah ignored Arthur’s frown.

“The only way to defeat him truly is when he is gone, and not at my hand! Now go! I won’t tell you again.”

“Merlin! You cannot speak about my father that way!” Arthur said, having had enough of the stacking insults.

The dragon sneered angrily, “Oh, he won’t, ever again!” He flapped his great wings and took to the sky. “You won’t call upon me either, ever again!”

They looked at the dragon leaving together. It flew towards the West and soon became nothing more than a dot in the dark winter sky.

“Merlin, you—” Arthur saw the startled look on Merlin’s face. “Merlin?”

Merlin opened his mouth to speak and no sound came out. He grabbed his throat and stared at Arthur with wide, round eyes. Nothing emerged from his throat, no matter how hard he tried to shout.

“Merlin, what is it? What’s happened?”

Again he tried to voice words, but there was no sound. Not even the sound of breath. He panicked and looked up at the sky, but the dragon was already out of sight.

Kilgharrah had stolen his voice.

  
**\-----113 Arthur-----**

It was late on the second evening after the dragon had disappeared. Arthur sat with his father and Holden in the council chambers for a late meeting. The city life had been reduced to a mute mourning, marked by coal and soot, and occupied with burying the dead.

Holden read out the numbers to him. Over 150 homes were destroyed by fire, nearly 500 damaged, they lost the lives of 418 people, and thirty-six were still missing. Among the knights they had lost five more, including Sir Ywain and Sir Lanval. They were down to twelve remaining knights after the combined events of the Knights of Medhir and the Great Dragon’s onslaught. Most of them quite untrained. They had never been this low on the size of their nobility, and their families were likely to begin re-evaluating their loyalty to the Pendragons once they received their sons home to bury them.

“Geoffrey has postponed his lessons for a fortnight to allow for the cleaning of the library to begin. During his inspection of the damages, he discovered that the missing book is not missing after all. There are still some armor pieces left, of which we don’t know to whom they belonged. Three horses expired from stress. We haven’t gone into the Eastern tower because the fires aren’t out yet, four servants are leaving the household…” Holden droned on.

Arthur wasn’t listening. He was thinking about the praise he had received for defeating the dragon. He had already told his father that he had failed. He had brought Balinor to the city, only to discover the man’s true intent. Uther had told him not to worry. It was in the man’s nature after all. Balinor’s attack had been brief; Leon and the men had been amply trained in the use of their crossbows, after fighting the dragon for several days, and they had struck the man down before he had done too much damage.

Too much damage. Uther wasn’t talking about people, simply about the castle.

But the dragon was gone, and that was all everyone saw. Gwen had told him she couldn’t express the depth of her gratitude, after she had looked after so many of the wounded. He understood her, but he couldn’t feel the same. Morgana had simply said that she expected the death toll to increase, and that the suffering was not over yet. She was not wrong. To them, and to his father, Arthur had replied that he had been knocked out on the field after his attack, and that he wasn’t exactly certain what had happened.

When Arthur had asked the knights to come with him, only the bravest men had applied. Two of them had died out on the field. Arthur couldn’t tell anyone what had really occurred between Kilgharrah and Merlin because it would strip away any of the knights’ honour that their courage might have brought them, either in life or in death. Besides, should the Great Dragon ever return, Arthur would need a way to explain himself.

The history books now marked Leon as having slain treacherous dragonlord Balinor with a flaming arrow from the highest tower of the citadel. Arthur desperately wanted to rewrite it, even though it wasn’t far enough from the truth to begin with. He felt conflicted.

For the past two days he hadn’t seen Merlin, hadn’t even been able to establish a baseline with him. Merlin still didn’t have his voice back and had kept to his room. Everyone was told that he was simply unwell, but Arthur knew that it was more than that. Merlin was mourning. But if he was honest with himself, Arthur selfishly needed him too. George had looked after him, quiet and sullen for once. Arthur almost felt like he could stand him. But what he really wanted was Merlin by his side. It was the only fierce certainty he knew in this dark time.

“Arthur?” Holden asked.

“We were talking about the repairs. You understand that the work in the stables must come to a full stop,” Uther said.

“Naturally,” Arthur replied. “Any of the prepared wood, materials, and experienced builders are available to use. We need to ensure that Dennett and Liam have what they need to pass the winter. I’m certain much straw and hay got lost.”

“I’ve already sent out for straw to surrounding villages,” Holden said. “Many replacements for other items can be found at the store rooms, and at the inns after the visit of the four kings. We are lucky to have so many items in stock.”

“Lucky?” Arthur berated him. “The price we pay is not just in materials. This will be felt for a long time!” Not just the death of the people, but also Uther’s cowardice, retreating into the castle while the soldiers, the guards, and knights had risked their lives, while the prince was out on foot to find a potentially treacherous man. How could anyone truly explain this away?

“Considering the size of the beast and the fact that the dragonlord still lived, and having defeated both of them, as well as the Knights of Medhir... Yes, I consider us very lucky,” Uther countered him. “Powerful sorcerers, even including Morgause, will now think twice before attacking us. This has bought us valuable time to strengthen our armies until Cenred pushes towards us, or if any of our enemies are plotting the same. They will not see that we were weak, but that we fought until even the most hardy enemies are defeated.”

Uther really believed what he said, Arthur thought to himself. He truly felt that he had done Camelot a service. If only Uther knew what sort of man Balinor might have been if he hadn’t been betrayed. He could have been like Merlin. He could have been loyal, and a fierce warrior.

But if he had never fled the citadel...

And if only Uther knew that there had been another sorceress in town. Arthur presumed that perhaps she was someone who lived there, who had lived there all along. She had doused the fires, obviously trying to help. Having seen what she did, it was enough for Arthur not to pursue her. Let her live, let her do what she needed to in order to take care of the people. If any dark magic would be done by her, they would hear about it and take action afterwards.

“Considering the frequency and size of the attacks on our city, they must assume that we are left in a weakened state. Now would be the perfect time to attack, not the worst time,” Arthur said. “We must be extra vigilant, and we must stock up in case of a siege.”

“You are very mindful, Arthur. We have fewer people to feed though, so—”

“You’re wrong. People will need food and drink to pass their sorrows. We are not through the winter yet. What about the family members that will travel here to mourn the losses of their loved ones? What if they want to stay and join their relatives in ritual or prayer?”

Uther frowned and looked at Holden for a moment. They both seemed to consider something. Their silence stretched and it made Arthur fidgety.

Uther leaned forward and said, “Have you spoken with Lady Morgana at all since your return?”

“At dinner last night. You were there.”

“In private?”

“No, why? Is she alright?”

“I believe she has been traumatized by these events. She put herself forward to help the wounded and the dying, but she was not capable of dealing with what she has seen.”

Arthur frowned. Morgana was not easily disturbed. “Is she distressed?”

“Yes, I believe that she is. She has spoken about a retreat.”

“She might be safer away, until this chaos has passed.”

“I need you to talk to her and remove that idiotic thought from her mind.”

Arthur nodded contemplatively. “Right away, father.”

Uther lifted his hand and the gesture alone stopped Arthur from getting up from his seat. “Before you leave, we’ve received an urgent letter, which requires our immediate attention.”

  
***

Gwen opened the door to Morgana’s chambers and smiled warmly at him. “Good morning, sire.”

Arthur pushed into the room the following morning and gazed about. The room smelled like Morgana’s bed stuffing was recently changed and a fresh scent hung in the room. On the table he saw a blue tunic with a half-stitched emblem on it, as well as sewing materials strewn about. “Where is Lady Morgana?”

“I expect her here shortly. Why don’t you sit down?” She gestured toward the chairs beside the window.

“No. Thank you, Gwen. I need to find her.”

She didn’t answer him, but sat down and continued sewing. Arthur fretted and began to turn to the door when she spoke. “Actually, sire, there is something I might need to speak to you about.”

He heard the tremor in her voice and paused his stride. When he glanced at her, she looked at odds with something. Her hands folded in her skirt. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

“It’s Merlin, sire.”

He felt his heart thud loudly in his chest, but he forced himself to relax. “I don’t really have time for this.” It came off a bit too snappish.

Gwen frowned at him. “I think this requires your time, sire. Merlin has not let anyone visit him. Gaius has turned us all away because he won’t let us in.”

Arthur sighed. He could imagine how Merlin must be feeling. Arthur had left him alone to bury his father and hadn’t seen him since. When Gaius had shown up at last night’s dinner, he had confirmed to Arthur in private that Merlin still didn’t have his voice back, and that nothing Gaius had tried had worked. How would Merlin explain that to his visitors? The last thing they needed now was another magical inquisition. He shook his head at Gwen and it pained him to speak. “It’s none of my business if he’s slacking away. I’ve got George picking up the work for me.”

Gwen lifted her eyebrows and continued, undeterred, “He has turned me away three times and has refused to speak to Lady Morgana. Even Sir Leon and Sir Kay tried to visit him without success. I’m worried, Arthur.”

“If he’s turned you all away, I’m sure there’s little I can do,” he said lightly.

Gwen sighed insolently. “I think he might need to talk to you.”

“He’s just hiding from Holden, I’m sure of it,” Arthur said, trying to steer her away from this. Or was he trying to steer himself away from it? He didn’t handle grief well, he usually tucked it away. Merlin wore it openly and Arthur wasn’t always sure what to do with it. There was nothing he could do for Merlin now that would make anything better.

Gwen frowned and stood up. “I’ll look for Morgana. Just be there for him?”

She was unrelenting, and getting closer to the truth than she should. It grated on him, so he threw an arm out to stop her. “Fine. But I won’t promise anything.”

She smiled at him, picked up the laundry basket and left, saying, “Excellent decision, my lord.”

He was left alone in Morgana’s room. He sat down on one of the chairs and waited. He thought about what his father and Holden had mentioned. King Godwyn had sent them an urgent letter requesting immediate aid at the borders. It seemed like two or more druid clans were uniting in the foothills of the mountains and had formed a formidable army. Of course, Uther couldn’t spare a garrison now. Not with Cenred at their opposite border in the East. Not when every able-bodied man was asked to begin the heavy repairs, while the women got their homes in order. He sat and pondered for a long time about all the problems that this brought along. Morgana still had not returned.

His thoughts drifted inevitably to Merlin. He couldn’t remember being so starved for his presence, apart from needing cleaning to be done in the past. It was a time that felt far away already, when Merlin had simply been a nuisance in need of structure and berating. And a total idiot.

But he wasn’t. Merlin was clever and resourceful, and immensely resilient. He hadn’t expected to find all these layers of depth and he certainly felt privileged to be privy to them. And there was more to it than that. All of Arthur’s life seemed to have been in preparation to meet him, somehow, if there was some truth to what the stories told, about the kingdom Arthur would rule. He knew nearly nothing of what it contained, and perhaps that was for the better, but it included Merlin. It always had. It was always him, and Arthur was beginning to understand why.

From the moment that Arthur had learned that he was born of magic, and that it was not a lie, he had debated the reason for his existence. If magic didn’t exist, Uther wouldn’t have resorted to using it, and Arthur wouldn’t exist. His mother would still be alive and Uther would not have a dynasty to leave behind. And perhaps the Great Purge would never have begun. But then Balinor would not have been driven from the city, would not have traveled with Hunith to Ealdor. If magic didn’t exist, Merlin wouldn’t have been born. Merlin was magic. He concluded that it was his own birth which had inadvertently led to Merlin’s. He existed only because of magic, and Merlin existed only because of him. That meant Merlin had to be… His head spun.

He got up and left Morgana’s room. He walked straight to Gaius’ workshop and burst into the room. The old physician was pulling sticky lines of something from some snot-like fungus, which had Arthur’s stomach nearly turn over.

“I’m going to speak with him,” he said, without so much as a greeting.

Gaius looked up from his work table and peered at Arthur over his glasses. “I’m afraid others before you have tried. He is not coming out, and there is nothing I can do for him, sire.”

“Tell me he has eaten, at least?”

Gaius looked down.

“I refuse to believe that what happened to him is permanent. I want to search beyond the resources we have and find help.”

The old man regarded him curiously. “You cannot be spared for such an endeavour, my lord.”

He walked past the bench and towards the door to Merlin’s room. “There is every reason to expect I will be sent on a voyage soon. If there is any medicine that helps him, I need you to prepare enough for a journey.”

“He won’t welcome you,” Gaius warned him.

Arthur wasn’t listening. He pushed through the door and closed it behind him. Merlin was lying on his stomach, on his narrow bed. He wore his night shirt. His head was turned away from the door and his eyes were closed. With the shutter closed and no candle burning, the room felt stuffy and dim.

When Merlin didn’t respond to his presence, Arthur swallowed. Not long ago he would have physically dragged him to his feet, to force him to keep going. Perhaps he ought to do the same. Merlin had faced worse, hadn’t he?

Or had he?

Arthur sat down on the edge of Merlin’s bed. Merlin didn’t respond, though his eyes were open now. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but wasn’t certain what to say. Nothing would cover it.

 _You did your best. I’m sorry that your father is dead. I’m sorry that you could not be recognized once more for everything you’ve done. We’ve got to move on, there is no other option. No man is worth this many tears._ Instead, he lowered his hand onto Merlin’s back and rubbed over his back. There was nothing to say that would make it go away.

He sat like that for nearly half an hour, pondering about what to say and subsequently tossing everything away as irrelevant. He rubbed his hand in circles. Merlin still did not respond. His eyes were closed again and Arthur wasn’t certain whether he was even awake.

If Merlin would resume his normal daily duties, it would become apparent quickly enough that he couldn’t speak, not even whisper. If he stepped out of his room, he would have to answer for it, which he could not. At the same time, staying away this long also drew attention. If Arthur would be sent out on a trip, it would probably be soon, and he would need Merlin with him, but feeling better than he was now. He couldn’t do this all by himself.

He turned and leaned over Merlin, hovering close to his cheek, almost close enough for his nose to graze over his lightly stubbled skin. Merlin didn’t stir. Arthur whispered, “I love you.” It was all he had to offer. Merlin pressed his lips together and kept his eyes firmly shut. There was nothing left for Arthur to say, except…

He stood up and walked back towards the door. “This morning a letter came in that is addressed to you. I believe it’s from your mother. It’s waiting in my chambers. I’m not giving it to you unless you are fed and washed.”

  
***

Arthur didn’t see Merlin all day. He had performed his duties by visiting all the other wealthy families in town under his father’s orders. Together with Sir Leon they offered their condolences and established the damages. If these were not too great, he would ask them if there was anything they could spare in terms of furniture, blankets, tools, and other materials, and that they would be compensated in time. Sir Leon had taken notes and had proven very skilled at negotiations.

It was past dinner time, and Arthur was answering the long list of inevitable letters from the other great houses one by one. He wrote to ask for their continued allegiance, and for their sons to take on knighthood. He also had Sir Leon’s notes, tallying the equipment retrieved from the fallen victims, and establishing what would be sent home with the deceased knights and soldiers, and which items could remain. It was a tedious process which he discovered was also supplemented an intense feeling of loss. Nevertheless, he worked on.

The door opened and closed. He assumed that George was there to clean up the remaining dishes of his dinner. He continued writing his sentence, carefully placing letter after letter with the expensive ink on royal parchment. Suddenly, he noticed that the room felt warmer.

He looked up and saw Merlin collecting the plates onto his tray. He observed him but offered no greeting. Merlin was there. His manservant. His lover. His other half. He didn’t move or speak up, he simply waited for Merlin to turn around and look at him.

Merlin had dressed. It was the first thing that Arthur noticed. He looked like he would look on any day. If no one addressed him in the hallway, which was something Merlin was well-capable of arranging, he could pass without much fuss. If he could still do that. And he was shaven too, Arthur saw, when the light of a candle fell on his cheek.

Arthur didn’t speak or ask him anything. He put down his feather pen next to the ink jar. He leaned back in his chair and offered Merlin his own time to turn to him. It was something that he had come to realize about Merlin. The more room he was given to determine the next step, the more he would offer. And it worked. Within several moments Merlin turned to him. His blue eyes fiercely met his gaze and Arthur matched it.

All of a sudden he felt whole, where he had only felt incomplete during the past few days. Merlin showed the same. Without words they were able to convey that much. The wind blew outside and the fire crackled in the hearth. Apart from that there was no sound, simply the conversation they had with their eyes.

Merlin put a single step in Arthur’s direction, and Arthur was out of his seat at the same time. He walked around his desk and Merlin crossed the room. They stood face to face. Arthur didn’t speak. Merlin was still walled up, keeping everything inside, and offering him only an obstinate glower which demanded everything and offered nothing. He held his hand out, palm up.

Arthur shook his head. He would give Merlin the letter after he had fully returned to himself and accepted his current state. Merlin shoved his hand towards Arthur, indicating that he really wanted that letter. Arthur shook his head again and took hold of Merlin’s wrist instead. When Merlin tried to pull back, he kept it there. Merlin was now glaring at him and tilting his head. Slowly, Arthur lifted Merlin’s hand and pulled it towards himself, pushing the palm of Merlin’s hand against his cheek. Merlin’s hand felt warm, and his clumsy fingers were lying aimlessly on his cheek. Arthur kept his gaze fixed on Merlin’s eyes, unwavering.

He picked up Merlin’s other and as well and brought it to rest over his heart, covering Merlin’s hand with his own. Still, he did not speak or look away. Merlin’s fingers grabbed hold of his cheek and stroked it, then his hand slid into Arthur’s hair and gripped it. Merlin’s stare bore into him, but Arthur didn’t pull away, didn’t push for more.

After a long moment, Merlin caved in, his face scrunched up in grief, despair, and longing. Wordlessly, Arthur gathered him up in his arms and Merlin fell against him. Though there was no sound, but through the shaking of Merlin’s chest, Arthur knew that he was crying. He held Merlin’s head against his shoulder and buried his nose in his red scarf. Even if anyone would walk in right now, he wouldn’t care. Merlin needed this.

After some time, Merlin pulled back and wiped his cheeks with his sleeve. He looked worn, but much more himself. Arthur stepped back and reached over to his desk, picking up a mudded, folded note with a string still bound around it. He offered it to Merlin, who gave him one of his sassy looks.

“Would ‘ _prat_ ’ suffice?” he offered with a small grin. Merlin huffed a soundless snort. Arthur didn’t let go of the note yet. “There is one thing I must know. Can you still do magic?”

Merlin held onto the letter tightly, the knuckle of his thumb turning white. Several of the candles in the room extinguished and lit up again, when Merlin’s eyes flashed gold. But then he was shaking his head.

“So, some of it yes, some of it no. You’re going to have to explain this to me.”

Merlin tugged at the letter and when Arthur let go, Merlin eyed him apologetically while he pulled the string from the letter. He turned away and walked over to the large candle on Arthur’s desk to use the light to read the faded ink.

  
**\-----114 Merlin-----**

The letter was dated nearly three weeks ago. It meant that his mother had received Merlin’s letter on time, and it was her reply which had been delayed. Seeing her elegant hand, in the poor quality ink that he knew so well from growing up, moved him. He held his breath and read.

_My dear son,_

_I am so proud to hear of your promotion and I have told the village about your achievement. We have decorated the old oak again this year and Bess has had a son. They have not named him yet._

_We are a bit afraid of the oncoming war because no one knows what will happen. There are no young men left in Ealdor to recruit. However, we are well-stocked and this year we will pass the winter with ease, if it doesn’t get too cold._

_Ever so proud._

_Hunith_

He lowered the note and let out a soundless sigh. His mother was fine. She would be fine. She had no idea about what Merlin had just gone through, and he was resolved never to tell her. Not the whole truth, anyway. He had read the letter with his mother’s voice in mind, and he imagined her now, huddled around the fire and working on mending some clothes. He imagined the smell of the house and could almost sense it. She was fine. A weight fell off his shoulders.

When he turned around, Arthur was holding out a piece of paper to him and the feather pen. Merlin cocked his head.

“I need to talk to you. And, I never quite thought I would say this, but I need to hear your reply, as it were,” Arthur said and offered him a small grin.

His quips were light as always. It almost felt as something well-known and comfortable. Merlin took the paper and pen and turned to Arthur’s desk. He pointed at the chair.

“You can sit down.”

He did and he began to write, dipping the pen into the ink jar and wrote until the pen was slightly too dry, in his quick strokes. There was too much to tell. He couldn’t possibly let him know everything that went through his head. His thoughts were a jumble.

He handed the note to Arthur to read.

_My mother is fine. Safe. My father is buried. Gaius hasn’t been able to help me, there is nothing in any books mentioned about this. I can only do what I have been able to do without words. Anything that still requires words is out of my reach._

He saw Arthur’s eyes scan the paper. As soon as Arthur opened his mouth to say something, he snatched it back and added a scribble at the bottom, frowning. When he pushed the paper back to Arthur, there were tears in the corners of his eyes. The small letters read:

_I am useless._

“Don’t be an idiot, Merlin. I’m sure there’s plenty you can do without even knowing it.”

Merlin shook his head. Arthur was dismissing this too easily. He swallowed away another wave of despair threatening to paralyze him and used another piece of parchment. He wrote unsteadily, not like his practiced hand, but quick and hastily.

_I thought that finding Balinor could change things for magic, that the people could start to see something good. That the king might change his mind. The past buried. Now the opposite has happened._

While Arthur read the note, he continued writing. Writing was too slow, there was so much to convey. So much that Arthur didn’t understand yet.

_On top of that, I found out that he was my father. And though he did not abandon me specifically, he still chose to forsake all he had for revenge. What does that say about me?_

“Are you being dense on purpose?” Arthur shot at him with a look of ridicule. “You are not the same as him. If that was the way things worked, what would it say about me?”

No, this was different. Merlin frowned stubbornly.

Arthur leaned over the desk. “You don’t get to be the only one worried about what is left behind. You don’t have that luxury.”

Merlin wrote.

_I needed him to be a good man! I needed this moment to show all of Camelot what might be possible. I am further away than ever and I don’t know what to do!_

“I don’t have an answer. If it isn’t happening then it’s not. The future isn’t done with us. That much I understand.” He played with the ring on his index finger. “We will be traveling again, soon. Tomorrow or the day after. You are coming with me. If we discover anything which might lead us to the dragon’s whereabouts, we will investigate.”

Merlin shook his head and turned the note over. He scribbled again, wishing that his hand could move faster.

_I cannot protect you. I can’t even warn you of danger. I can’t tell you when everything is alright._

“Then we will find a way for you to let me know anyway.”

Merlin looked up exasperated. He lifted his hands in the air indicating, as he thought was very clear, that this wouldn’t work. He furiously mouthed a series of words which possibly included several swear words.

Arthur stared at him blankly. “Yes, well. Not like that, clearly. I have no idea what you just told me.”

Merlin threw his hands up and reached for another piece of paper. Arthur’s hand came up to cover the ink jar, preventing him from dipping the feather pen in.

“No, Merlin. We won’t have writing tools on the road. I want you to try. Tell me there’s danger.”

How was he supposed to do that? He flicked his wrist and the ink jar went flying towards the ground in front of Arthur. The prince jumped back in shock. The jar stopped right before it would strike the ground and hovered there for a moment, before landing softly. The ink droplets which had formed a threatening black line through the air, aiming to perfectly ruin anything they touched, retreated back into it neatly. Merlin snickered soundlessly at Arthur’s shock.

“Why you little…” Arthur made a grab for him.

Merlin got up from the chair quickly before Arthur could get to him. Merlin spun away towards the dining table while Arthur recovered the ink jar and put it back on the table. He watched the prince from the other side of the room and bit his lip miserably.

“We should sort out some signals. You can throw things around all you like, but I still won’t know what you mean. And if there are others around, you can’t use magic anyway,” Arthur pointed out and walked to the door to lock it. He approached Merlin and came to stand in front of him. He stood so close that Merlin could feel the warmth radiating off him and it intoxicated him until he felt giddy.

Arthur searched his eyes and said, “Remember when I couldn’t tell you about Halig and the Nine Whistles? If I could have warned you then...”

Merlin raised a finger and pulled it across his neck to indicate the movement of a knife slicing it open.

“For danger?” Arthur nodded. “Good. What about when there is no danger at all?”

Merlin looked at his hand. He thought about whether to place it somewhere or to make a sign. It should be something that wouldn’t be noticeable by others. That way Arthur could take control over any situation if Merlin had let him know that they were safe. He placed his thumb under his chin and slightly pushed his head upwards. It was something he remembered Hunith doing to him, when consoling him as a child. It told him everything was fine.

“Alright, chin up. Good. Now what about… ‘ _clotpole_?’”

Despite himself, a stupid grin tore across his face. That was easy enough, he thought, and pointed at Arthur. The prince batted his finger away, hooked his thumbs into Merlin’s belt, and drew him close while Merlin feigned a struggle, pushing against Arthur’s shoulders. The struggle ended the moment Arthur’s soft lips touched his. He closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders, and felt heat flare through his cheeks.

Arthur proceeded to kiss along his smoothly shaven cheek, and said in a pleased tone, “That’s better. No more sulking, do you understand me?”

Merlin made a noise of consent, only there was no sound. He sighed silently and clutched Arthur’s shirt. He felt so immensely powerless. He would do his best. He would do that for Arthur. If that was all that held him together right now, it would be enough.

He pulled back, stared at Arthur and felt overwhelmed. He wondered where the past two days had gone, and how he had been able to breathe without him by his side. He mouthed ‘I love you’ to him. He said it again and again, without any of the syllables reaching the prince’s ears. Each time he said it, the silence stretched on, and he felt his love more strongly take shape in his chest. He balled a fist against Arthur’s shirt and mouthed it again.

“Stay here, tonight,” Arthur whispered. “And for goodness sake, shut up.” There was a twinkle in his eyes that Merlin recognized.

Pushing Arthur backwards, Merlin began undoing his belt and tugging at the prince’s shirt. Arthur got out of them easily enough. He eyed him hungrily and threw the clothes on the floor, uncaring for once. His hand came down to cup Arthur’s groin, but a hand caught his wrist.

“Wait,” Arthur said. Merlin shot him a worried look and Arthur said, more softly, “Wait, love.” He held Merlin’s hand and stroked his palm. “I don’t think I can… not without hearing your voice, your responses.”

Merlin frowned at him. He was still the same person, even without a voice. Arthur was making this way too big.

“How would I tell the difference whether it’s something you’re enjoying, or something hurtful.” In response, Merlin made exaggerated happy and angry faces. But Arthur shook his head. “You can’t be completely yourself.”

Merlin shot a glance at the desk, and the feather pen, desperate to convey to Arthur how much this shouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t want any of this to come between them. If this stupid limitation the dragon had caused prevented them from being together, then his urgency to resolve it increased tenfold.

Writing would take too much time, he decided. So, he shrugged out of his jacket, unbuckled the belt that held his shirt down and took it off. Arthur looked at him as if he was a petulant child. Perhaps he right, and he was being childish.

“Yes, Merlin, you can stay here. I’m not sending you away.”

He shook is head. That wasn’t it. He knew that already. He took a step closer, to let Arthur know that he wasn’t discouraged.

But Arthur tilted his head and sighed. “What I want you to do is to put out the candles, clean my room, and come to bed. To sleep. We will speak with Gaius tomorrow to ask him where the dragon might have gone. And I will arrange with my father that we leave immediately.”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“Oh that’s right, I haven’t told you yet,” Arthur said. “We’re going to see to Godwyn’s druid uprising.”

  
***

The next morning Merlin was running into the kitchens to select food to pack for their journey Southwest, towards the borders between Camelot and Gawant. Even without his voice, he was able to convey what he needed by holding up the travel bag. Audrey looked at him curiously, but he just shrugged and grinned. The new scullery maid chuckled at him, which pacified the cook and she allowed him to pack the necessary items.

The word had been spread that Merlin had caught some illness and had lost his voice. He simply needed to try to avoid speaking and everything would be well. As Gwen passed him in the hallway, she stopped him, holding out the large, empty basket she was carrying and eyed him sharply. He offered Gwen a smile, but she raised an eyebrow.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

Merlin nodded and shook the travel bag full of wrapped up food.

“That’s not what I was asking. I mean, what I want to know is, are _you_ alright?”

He offered her a soft smile and a single nod.

“Right, well, I don’t believe you for a second.”

Apparently his deception wasn’t working. He shrugged and pointed at his throat.

“Well, I understand _that_. How did it really happen? Should I be worried?”

He quickly shook his head and lifted his hands to try and tell her it wasn’t his fault, or perhaps that he didn’t really know what was going on. He grinned at her helplessly.

“You can’t just shut us out and then expect us, and I mean me, to believe you’re alright, Merlin. That’s not nice. Not after… you know. I thought it might be that.”

He gaped at her, feeling ashamed. He looked down and shook his head, then lifted the bag strap over his shoulder and folded both his hands over his heart. How could he have shut them out like that? Gwen, Morgana, and Sir Leon. He hadn’t even properly spoken with Gaius about the events. All Gaius had told him was how many casualties had been tallied and Merlin had fallen apart, retreated to his room and stayed there.

“Then it’s not a problem with him, I gather? That’s… good, I think.”

He reached out and hugged her, and she accepted it gladly, lowering the basket with one arm, and hugging him back with the other.

“We’re all dealing with loss, Merlin. We need everyone to put their best foot forward, especially now. And if you can’t, for whatever reason, you need to tell us. Well, not tell us, because you can’t talk, but you know what I mean.”

Merlin grinned and let go. He nodded at her.

“By the way, have you seen Morgana today?”

  
**\-----115 Arthur-----**

Arthur entered Gaius’ workshop with a light sweat on his brow despite the chilly winter morning. Thankfully the old physician was alone. He closed the door carefully behind him and strode up to the workbench where Gaius seemed to be stringing together some garlic. It didn’t seem too odd, until he realized that he was stringing them around a eyeball.

He swallowed his nerves and produced a piece of leather cloth with a string wrapped around it.

“Prince Arthur, what brings you here today?”

“Hello Gaius,” he said, trying to sound as collected as he could. Clearly the old man wasn’t buying it for a second. “I’ve brought—”

The door to the workshop opened and Merlin strode in, looking up in surprise at Arthur’s presence. The prince let out a sigh of relief.

“Even without a voice you find the most interesting ways to interrupt me. Close the damned door,” he said for the purpose of show.

Merlin made a show of exasperation, and did just that.

“Well, I…” He noticed Merlin taking a seat nearby. Perhaps this hadn’t been a good idea. Merlin already pointed at the parcel he was holding, so he unwrapped it, and revealed a pile of documents.

“What is this then?” Gaius peered at the writing.

“This is Balinor’s tale. I need you to keep this hidden, if you can. It is the real story of what happened. The world is not ready to know it yet.”

Merlin’s look was sullen. He had expected that, but there was nothing to do about that now. There was no purpose in dwelling on the past.

“He told you what happened back then?”

“I have omitted your name, for security. But I know that you ensured his safety. For this act, I want to thank you. If it wasn’t for learning that the dragonlord might still be alive, I don’t know if we would have been able to protect the city.”

“But he attacked the city, sire.”

“I’m not condoning his actions by writing them down. However, should anything happen to me… or to Merlin, it’s important to know that the truth is documented.”

Gaius fretted and asked in a cautious tone, “May I ask what truth that is, sire?”

Arthur shot another worried glance at Merlin who was glumly playing with a black crow’s feather that had been lying on the table. “The truth behind my father’s purging of all the dragonlords, Nimueh, my birth… I know it all. It cannot be left to chance that this information gets lost one day. Will you secure it for me? And for Merlin?”

Gaius took the parcel from Arthur and tied the strings around it again. “May I read it?”

“Of course,” he said formally. Then he added, “How well did you know him, Gaius? He seemed to think greatly of you.”

The old man sat quietly for some time, folding his hands over the soft leather. He glanced over in Merlin’s direction, who was eyeing him sharply.

Arthur had a bad feeling about this.

Merlin got up and threw the feather down. He pointed a finger at Gaius and mouthed words in a soundless shout. ‘You knew.’ Arthur didn’t have to guess it.

“Merlin,” Gaius began, speaking softly, “there is something I need to tell you.”

Arthur shook his head. If Gaius couldn’t read lips, it was one thing. “How long have you known, Gaius?”

To his credit, Gaius looked up in genuine surprise. Merlin turned away from the table and put his hands in his hair. Arthur understood the anguish that he must be going through.

“Hunith confided it to me once. She asked me never to tell,” Gaius said.

A feather pen shot across the room and wrote on a parchment all by itself, right in front of the old man.

_I had a right to know!_

“It was so long ago, I thought he must already be dead. Besides, I don’t think he ever knew about Merlin.”

Merlin turned back to them and the pen swished onwards. His eyes were glowing gold and his expression was furious. He approached his master’s workbench.

_It could have changed everything! You are all liars!_

Arthur felt his heart thud against his breastbone. The image of an angry, fierce sorcerer woke up an ancient terror hidden deep inside of him. He did not fear Merlin, but he still felt afraid. He swallowed it down and held out a hand to stop Merlin’s advance. “Perhaps it would have, Merlin. But perhaps it wouldn’t have changed a thing.” He put his thumb under his own chin and pushed it up, giving Merlin a hard stare.

Merlin’s expression changed from anger to weariness to grief.

“My dear boy, I wanted to tell you, but I did not see you before your departure,” Gaius said. He stood up and walked around the bench and held his arms out to Merlin. “I hoped it would not end this way.” Merlin accepted the embrace gladly.

“It had to end this way,” Arthur said. His heart bled for Merlin’s sadness. “He had suffered for many years. There was nothing that could have restored his former glory, or status, or pleasure in the world to him. Even though he learned about Merlin, he still chose to attack Camelot. I don’t think he was capable to love anymore, not truly.”

When Merlin and Gaius broke apart, Merlin rubbed his nose and let out a silent sigh. The feather pen was scribbling again.

_Has either of you seen Morgana?_

Gaius read the note aloud and both men looked at Merlin in confusion. “No,” Gaius said, “I haven’t seen her since the day before yesterday. When she came in to talk to you.”

“Perhaps she went into the lower town. You know how she is with helping people in need,” Arthur said. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

  
***

“I absolutely forbid it,” Uther said.

“King Godwyn has asked our help, I cannot turn a blind eye to his call.” Arthur and his father were in the war room, leaning over the table between them, and looking over the burned leather maps of the known territories.

“We are in mourning, the city lies in ruins. I will not spare the knights or any of the armies to escort you there.”

Arthur frowned. He read between the lines that he didn’t want Arthur involved with the restorations or the clean-up either. Most of the knights and soldiers had been sent to town to remove any parts of broken homes and to sweep the streets. Others had been sent out to gather firewood and to travel to nearby villages to buy materials. Arthur had had no such summons. He was only ever good for showing off to guests at tournaments, apparently.

Though it wasn’t his plan to actually fight the druids, he needed to convince his father to agree with his departure. “If three druid clans have indeed merged, and are forming an army in the mountains of Asgorath as we speak, it is to our best advantage to attack now. If they unify their tactics, then come spring they will certainly—”

“The druids are not situated in our lands. Let Godwyn handle his own problems.”

“Father,” Arthur began, “this is already embedded into the treaty.” He didn’t believe Godwyn’s notes entirely. Over the past month he had received three letters from Godwyn personally, which seemed to grossly dramatize the large numbers of these druids and their mystical hold over the beacons. Though he had requested the information himself, he had not expected to be summoned by Godwyn to aid him so soon.

His father glared at him and leaned menacingly over the table. “We have agreed upon a military alliance, not that each local uproar is supported by our men.”

“We have no relevant outposts in that region, and those druids will have magic. On top of that, Godwyn killed their outrider, which is a direct reason for the druids to attack. They are furious. How long will it take before they enter Camelot?” The truth, according to Godwyn’s letters, was that the druids had asked Godwyn for assistance to drive out the invaders from the Western Isles, something that all the kings ought to aspire to. However, Godwyn’s pride and need for utmost control had fueled the druid rage when their outrider was murdered, after having been received as a guest.

“I am dealing with Cenred on our Eastern borders already, the new patrols have sent us letters about military activity.”

“New patrols? Do you mean the Sarmatians stationed there?”

Uther looked down over the map, hiding his expression. “Yes.”

Arthur remained quiet for a minute. After all, his father had not wanted to trust these men. Now, when the enemy proved to be worse, he had put them to use after all. It made perfect sense. His initial elation was joined by a twisted sensation. The fact that his father had taken this possible allegiance out of his hands entirely with this gesture was worrisome.

“You’ve already arranged this?”

“Their leaders are heading to the citadel as we speak.”

“Right. It still leaves Godwyn’s official request unanswered. You know what we’ve put into the treaty, that if this request is denied it would break the treaty entirely. It would make Camelot an instant target for all other allies involved.”

“Godwyn’s request is absurd! Let the druids decimate themselves against the invaders!”

“Oh, I don’t disagree. But don’t you see what the man is doing? He is playing you both out against each other. Let’s not think for a moment that Godwyn is not a snake. If we aid him and war against the druids, then those clans stand to be weakened. Against the invaders it probably means that both parties will succumb and scatter. Godwyn wins. If we do not aid him, we are admitting our weakened military state. And it means Godwyn can weaken us by sending letters to our other allies, as well as our enemies to attack as one and pull Camelot apart. Godwyn can take the whole Western mountain ranges, and perhaps the plains from us. Again, he wins.”

“That is absurd!” Uther called out. “The treaty isn’t designed as such.”

“You put that in there yourself, father!” Arthur reminded him. “The only thing we need to do is drive the druids away from our borders. That means that Godwyn has no chance to further call upon us for aid and he must handle them himself.”

“I simply cannot spare the manpower, not in the state that we are in. We are paying dearly for all that the dragon destroyed.”

Arthur worked his jaw. He knew that his father was right. But he also knew that he needed to undertake this mission to protect the kingdom. And, he thought with a strange flutter of his heart, to protect Merlin. It was an absurd feeling, Merlin was far from weak, but it was nestled deeply and securely within him. “Then do not spend extra coin. Let us speak with the Sarmatian men heading our way. They are formidable fighters, and together we will have one firm advantage over these druids, that even Godwyn won’t suspect.”

Uther stood upright and regarded his son curiously. “What is that?”

“An armed cavalry. My horse Thorunn rides with theirs, it is trained to do that. It is of their stock. Their horses carry scale armor that cannot be easily pierced by bow and arrow. Meanwhile, the rest of the Sarmatians remain stationed where they are, so that Cenred cannot pass unseen. It gives us time to recuperate and reorganize. It will prevent outright war with Godwyn and the other kings, so that our focus lies entirely in the East.”

“Their stationing is suitable indeed. And I have already promised coin to pay them enough to hold the defenses at Cenred’s borders. I do not know that these men will follow you to the South and not ask for more. If you can prevent the spend, then you can ride out at the earliest possible time. If you do that then I will send Godwyn a letter, which will travel another route, just to be secure.”

“I believe I can convince them to travel with me without extra spend, father. There is only one thing we would need to offer them.”

Uther’s brow raised. “And what is that?”

“The right to settle and hunt our lands while they travel nomadically. Simply to feed their people.”

Uther looked down and considered it. “They are already taking away any leftover harvests from the abandoned villages, ensuring that Cenred won’t get to them. I don’t want him well-fed when he crosses into our lands. If they hunt the forests, too, then Cenred won’t be able to sustain any stationed garrisons.”

“Exactly. Besides, it will be good to keep the Sarmatians stationed nearby. I aim to trade with them for their powerful horses and create my own cavalry. These will be available for the knights to purchase and keep. You must have seen my preparations.”

“Creating that many war horses takes several years, Arthur. Besides, we have just lost several of our most noble knights, who were wealthy enough to purchase the horses for themselves. Now that they are gone, we have only young noble boys to train and they might not have the money to spend right away.”

The notion stung. He would have loved to have seen Sir Caridoc and Sir Owain on cataphract horses. Both of them had always been good riders. Sir Bedivere might not have liked it as much, but he would have looked formidable on it. “You are right, father. But in some years, when these boys are men and have been knighted, they will.”

“It will be some years before all our lords are sufficiently appeased to send us their sons and their wealth once more. The allowance we offer them should cover their materials and their status, but if they don’t vie for the best armor and the best horses, there’s not much benefit in it for us.”

Arthur wasn’t listening anymore. He had started making plans already. The Sarmatians would not attack the druids. Instead, Arthur would speak with the druid leaders. He needed to begin the arrangements so that the acceptance of magic in the world could change. For Camelot. For Albion. For Merlin. He would take action and he already knew what to do.

  
**\-----116 Morgana-----**

The horse pushed forward along the narrow woodland path. It’s hooves gently clip-clopped against the solid pathway leading them through the Forests of Brechfa. Four guards surrounded Morgana, two on each side. They had ridden for a day, steadily pacing towards their goal. She hadn’t rushed it, she hadn’t pushed the riders or the horses onwards. She had maintained the perfect illusion of a fully approved journey.

The four men had been easily persuaded by the king’s words, relayed to them through Morgana’s lips, that she was traveling to Feyson Abbey. The trauma that she suffered after the events of the dragon’s attack were cause for her retreat. She would speak with the abbess to be taken in for six months.

Six months.

She gave herself that much time to find a way out of the abbey and discover the nearest druid clan. She hoped sooner, rather than later. What she had learned about them from Geoffrey’s books was that they held many festivals during these dark days of the year. She might sense out their fires and their magic. She would go alone, if she had no one to take her there. And one day, she would be accepted and taught how to use magic properly. The pull of her visions brought her here, she didn’t even question it. It felt good.

It was all a perfect plan. The four soldiers were rather young and highly impressionable. They too had lost friends in the attacks and they understood her suffering. Morgana recounted the names from the ledgers, the ones she had written down. Everything was Uther’s fault. Everything. Even the dragon’s attack, she was sure of it. Each single magical affront to Camelot was merely the work of people fighting to be free at last.

She sought that freedom with all her heart. She sought the liberty of not being afraid every day. A bracelet was not the answer, and Morgause’s fake promises were not the answer either. Even Merlin’s kind attempts were too limiting. If she was going to make a difference, she was going to stand and fight.

She regretted not having been able to say goodbye to Merlin, and was upset that he had shut her out. She regretted not being able to speak to Arthur and find a way to commend him for defeating the dragon—without blowing up his ego of course. She longed for the reign to pass to him, and she believed he would do better. That he might hear her out, one day.

She regretted not saying goodbye to Gwen, who would be worried about her for now. Her worries wouldn’t last long.

All her regrets were nothing compared to the anticipation of what she was about to do.

As the five travelers arrived at the gates of the Abbey, there were several traders with a large wooden cart exchanging their wares, surrounded by a variety of buyers. A few of them were nuns, and others were men, women, and children, all dressed in local garb. Several of them wore long cloaks against the cold weather.

Morgana descended from her horse and thanked the soldiers for their support. She offered a note from her inside pocket to hand over to King Uther once they would safely arrive back at the citadel.

Everything depended on that letter.

The Abbey was the only place where she could mourn without being summoned, without being hunted through the lands for escaping Uther’s cage. Collecting her there would be sacrilege. Uther wouldn’t dare break her request for spiritual recovery. She would be free.

With her travel bag on the ground beside her, she said goodbye. The four guards bowed to her and turned around to head back, unsuspecting. As she watched them leave, Morgana heard a voice. It wasn’t a spoken voice, but it was directed at her mind. It was the voice of a child.

“Hello Morgana.”

She turned around and smiled at Mordred. A laugh escaped her throat.

She was home.

  
**\-----117 Merlin-----**

Merlin mounted Royse and looked over his shoulder at Arthur. The prince was finalizing his goodbyes to Galahad, who had made it clear that he would return to his clan in order to support the defenses in the Eastern borders. The other cataphract riders were packed and ready to ride out to secure Godwyn’s borders against the druids. Their powerful horses blew steam from their noses, eager to ride out. Merlin sat unsteadily on his horse, and felt sweat sticking to his back.

It had not taken long to convince Galahad to spare some of his men. After all, he had now secured food for his people through a signed agreement that allowed them to hunt for food unchallenged, as long as the hunting grounds were not owned by citizens of Camelot.

Traveling with Arthur and Merlin were Percival, Bohrs, Lamorak, and Lancelot. Lancelot had greeted Merlin as usual in a firm hug. Following that, the other men had done the same, thinking that it was normal. Despite himself, Merlin grinned at them wordlessly. Arthur had awkwardly looked away and told them that Merlin could not speak, that it was likely a spell and they hoped to find a cure on the road, as there had not been any sign of recovery. The men had proceeded to take turns in offering what they knew of magic and making jokes at Merlin’s expense, though clearly in good humor. Merlin liked these men rather a great deal more than some of the overbearing Knights of Camelot. Although he acknowledged their bravery against the Knights of Medhir, he would not miss Sir Caridoc nor Sir Owain.

The greatest jape the Sarmatians had come up with now hung off Merlin’s belt in a leather pouch. They had given him a small copper bell. Jokes about ringing to announce their fancy campfire feasts had been plentiful. Thankfully the men had uttered these jokes with glee. It was good fortune because they all seemed to overlook his misery.

He was in great pain. It felt as if his body was occasionally being stabbed by invisible knives. From time to time his vision turned blurry. It was the constraint on his voice, he knew. He wasn’t using any magic at all, and he was somehow being blocked. Whenever he did something small, such as moving an object or supporting a fire with his energy, he felt slightly better. Over the past days he had tested this and it was the only reason he had supported Arthur to undertake this journey. He _had_ to get his voice back.

As Gwen spoke with Lancelot at their departure that icy morning, it was clear that she was uneasy. Merlin regarded them from a distance. His friends had sought each other out as soon as the talks with Uther had been over. Galahad and the men had entered the castle, despite their earlier announcements not to be interested in that, to speak about terms. Less than an hour later they had emerged, satisfied, and had accepted the king’s money for the defense of their lands. Merlin observed as Lancelot took Gwen’s hand in his, and that it looked like he promised her something. He couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“All right, Merlin?” Arthur asked, having led Thorunn up beside him. Thorunn was dressed in scale armor, which Arthur had borrowed from Galahad’s personal attire and looked mighty impressive.

Arthur was a sight in his full armor, including his cuirass, pauldron, breastplate, vambraces, and his Pendragon cape. In the saddlebag were his helmet, greaves, and gauntlets. He felt a flutter in his gut to know for a certainty, as solid as the earth below and the sky above, that the strapping prince was entirely his. As Arthur mounted, Merlin lifted an eyebrow and pursed his lips in clear appreciation.

Arthur offered him a lopsided grin and pulled a warm hat over his head. He clearly wanted to prevent losing too much body heat, while wearing his armor, during their journey. “You can stop grinning now,” the prince told him quietly.

“A word, sire,” Lancelot asked, walking up to them, with the reins to his horse in hand.

“What is it?”

“We’ve been asked, unofficially, to keep our eyes open for any signs of Lady Morgana. As it turns out, she did not return to her bed last night and she was not seen today.”

“Morgana? But I just saw her… the other day.”

Merlin thought that Arthur didn’t sound too certain. Neither was he. His head felt like it was stuck in a cloud and his hands felt clammy. There wasn’t much thinking he could do.

“Guinevere said that a full search will be underway if she is not returned at dusk.”

Merlin slowly wrapped his head around the fact that Lancelot called her by her full name. It made him wonder.

Arthur looked at all the other men, fully packed and mounted. Dennett and Liam were hurrying inside to stay out of the cold. “I’m afraid the six of us cannot wait for that,” Arthur said, addressing all the men at once. “We will do as you say, and keep an eye out. It may be that she’s been assisting the people in town.”

“Naturally, sire,” Lancelot said, mounting at last.

They were ready to go. The prince nodded at the guards at the gate, and they stepped aside to let the riders pass.

Pushing aside the queasy pain in his gut, Merlin grinned at his friend, and spurned his horse onwards after the prince, the future King of Camelot, who had a mind of consolidation. And Merlin followed him, determined to fulfill the promise to his father.

  
**\-----118 Arthur-----**

They had ridden until it was deep into the night. At last, they had arrived at the Inn of Talgarh, which was situated in the Southeastern hills in Camelot, near the border to Godwyn’s lands. These areas were not well documented on their burned leather maps back at the citadel. The Western regions were wild and inhospitable and hard to trace out. Their coastline was frequently under attack by people from the Western Isles, and calls for help often reached them far too late.

Uther almost never sent armies to this region. He did not have many direct borders with other hostile kings, so it didn’t interest him. Arthur and the men had even passed a town which had apparently changed its name over a decade ago, and it had not yet been updated on their maps. Despite the fact that he had studied the maps intently, Arthur had nearly thought that they were lost. When they found the Inn of Talgarh, they were satisfied that they were in the right place.

He was becoming fearful for Merlin and had decided that the inn was a better place to stay than a camp. During the course of the ride down, Merlin had become more and more retreated within himself. Although he was pretending that everything was fine and picking up all the tasks at hand, Arthur had seen the sweaty gleam on his forehead. Merlin was unwell. He was certain that it had to do with the loss of his voice. It was severely affecting him both mentally and physically.

Despite the fact that this was the very same inn at which King Godwyn stayed on his journey home, the innkeeper and the guests were entirely surprised to see Prince Arthur. It was full of people and Arthur did his inquiries. Apparently, after word had spread that a treaty between the nations had been put in place, trade in the region had flourished. The innkeeper told him with a pleased smile that the business at the inn had surged as a result.

In order to support his plan, Arthur spoke with several people at the inn, asking after mundane things such as local bandits and highwaymen, as well as what he was really after, information about druids and dragons. As it turned out, no one had seen a dragon and they rather thought him half mad for his inquiry. It disappointed him that it would be unlikely for them to see the Great Dragon again soon.

The druid uprising, however, was a topic that many folks had something to say about. The rumors were similar depending on who was asked, and either two or three great clans had met and were joining forces. One old, drunken man spoke of conjurings of terrible beasts that would kill each and every man they could lay their hands on, and warned everyone to stay away from these people. Most of the guests, however, told them about the local rituals and folklore, the fact that they were welcomed at the druid rites, and that they had no trouble from them. They did not bother the druids, and the druids didn’t bother them. Conditions were harsh enough as they were.

The four Sarmatians had finished their dinner and downed their first flagons of mead. Percival had already finished four flagons, and the others were getting into the cups as well. They were seated in a quiet corner and many guests had left. Arthur decided that the time was right.

“Alright, so I suppose you want to know why you are _really_ here,” he began.

Percival looked up in surprise, but Bohrs and Lamorak exchanged a glance and put their flagons down. Lancelot, who had been trying to speak with Merlin quietly, getting only nods and headshakes in reply, now turned to them as well.

“Why don’t you enlighten us,” Lamorak said with a grin. “Will this be difficult for us, or easy?”

“I suppose it will be easy,” Arthur said.

“Then I’m liking it already.”

“Let’s just hear him out, alright?” Percival said.

Lamorak grinned at his friend. “Not all of us are eager for impossible quests like your grail, Percy.”

Bohrs crossed his large arms over his round chest and waited for Arthur to speak. Lamorak looked all ease. Percival put his flagon down to concentrate.

“Because of the recent events in Camelot, I need to do some investigations on my own. Back at the citadel, my own knights are occupied with restoration, but the truth is that they would not let me out of their sight. They would expect me to attack and kill every druid we find. You might have guessed by now that that is not what we’re here to do.”

“Although we fight for coin, we would not have signed up if we truly felt that this was your intention,” Lamorak said. “Galahad ensured us of this before we left.”

“He is very sharp,” Arthur remarked and smiled. “And no, we are not fighting them. In fact, we might be inviting them into Camelot.” From the corner of his eyes he noticed Merlin gaping at him, but he made sure not to look at him directly. The corner of his lip threatened to tug upwards at what he expected Merlin’s surprise must be like.

“Then what are you planning to do by yourself?” Bohrs asked in a gruff voice. “We can’t very well return to your father and tell everyone that you went off on a quest and you perished, but we don’t know what happened because we weren’t there.”

“I’m not certain what I am getting into. But what I do know is that I need to find the druids and speak with them. If they enter Camelot and repel the invaders from the Western Isles, and if the local folk agree, we can keep their presence here quiet for some time.”

“Why do you go directly against your father’s orders?” Lancelot asked.

“Because,” Arthur began and gripped his flagon tightly, “these people have always lived in these lands. It’s never been any other way. If it wasn’t for the Romans, we would not be so very different from them. Besides, the invading forces traveling to Albion even today will be stronger and larger in the years to come, as long as they continue to see us as divided and weak. No individual army can stand against the Saxons coming to the shores of our neighbors. Division would see our world destroyed. I cannot follow my father’s law, or there would be nothing left to rule over.”

The men stared at him quietly for some time. At last Bohrs lifted his tankard and waited for the others to do the same. “Tell us, Prince Arthur, are we included in your large plan? Most of us are not originally from these lands.”

“You do not seek to destroy all in your path. You do not rape and pillage. You have honor and you share food and drink with us. I would be a fool to cast you out.”

Merlin jingled his bell and lifted his hands as if the obvious had been stated.

“Don’t you even dare,” Arthur said and joined all the others in laughter.

“How long until you return? And what do we do in the meantime?” Lamorak asked.

Arthur glanced at Merlin momentarily. “I want you to stay here and survey this area. We have promised King Godwyn to ensure that everything is at peace, I would like you to keep it. Intervene only if necessary, protect the weak, and do your best to stay out of local politics. Just ask the local folk not to mention the druids’ presence, should they agree. We shall be able to tell my father that we did what was asked.”

“Very well,” Lamorak said. “What do you say, lads?”

They all mumbled their assent and Arthur felt a wave of relief flood over him.

“What about Merlin?” Lancelot asked. “He is unwell.”

“He is coming with me.”

Lancelot shook his head. “He should rest, my lord.”

Merlin held up the bell again but Arthur raised his hand. “I need Merlin to join me because, if anything, the druids might even provide an answer to his condition.” The men regarded him quietly, so he added, “No, really, I just need someone to carry my bags.”

The men laughed but Lancelot’s smile was a difficult one. Merlin’s hand came up on Lancelot’s forearm and he offered Lancelot a smile. Arthur didn’t like it. He felt that Lancelot had no right to be so extremely protective over Merlin, against _him_ no less. As if Arthur wouldn’t fight until his last breath to protect him.

He finished his mead and stood up, resisting the urge to pull Merlin away, out of Lancelot’s reach. Instead he said, “Merlin and I will ride out before dawn. We shall return here, or arrange for word to reach you.”

He bade them goodnight and turned around to head for the rooms on the floor above. He heard familiar footsteps behind him and was satisfied.

  
***

Arthur woke up enveloped in long, slender arms with Merlin’s head against his shoulder. During the night, Merlin had gotten up from the narrow cot on his side of the room and had pushed Arthur aside to lie with him. They had softly kissed for what felt like hours until they had fallen asleep again in each other’s arms. With each kiss he had wanted to offer Merlin certainty that everything would be fine, and with each kiss, he felt that Merlin was telling him the same. They didn’t need words for that.

He kicked the thick blankets lower, feeling too hot with the other’s skin flush against his, and moved one leg out of the pile of blankets. He instantly felt Merlin use the opportunity to push his knee in between, drawing him closer. His hand came up to stroke the soft skin at the back of Merlin’s neck, and down over his shoulder blades, running his fingertips in large, lazy circles. He felt Merlin tighten his grip around his chest in response. He noticed how hot Merlin’s skin felt to his touch, and how he was shivering.

“My love, you are not well,” he said quietly.

Merlin shook his head drowsily.

“Are you in pain?”

A nod.

“Will you be able to ride?”

Another nod.

“We had better be on our way. Though I will miss waking up like this.”

In the following hour, during the quiet darkness of the early morning, they packed and left the inn to begin their ascent into the mountains. He hoped that their climb would provide them the advantage of seeing smoke from campfires rising up over the canopies and save them time. With mute Merlin in tow, Arthur followed the path that led them into the thick woodland with the bare branches standing out as stark streaks against the gray sky.

They crossed wordlessly over hills, and through shallow streams with fresh mountain water. They passed the deerskin flask between them and drank. Arthur had been mostly quiet, resolved to make Merlin feel at ease as much as he could. High in the branches, a large crow cawed out, and its scraping noises resounded through the valley.

Arthur didn’t see any smoke pillars, nor any other signs of habitation. Occasionally they found markings of hooves in the dried mud. Since the mud was caked, he couldn’t estimate how long ago the previous travelers had passed. They climbed the beacons for several hours until their horses were puffing clouds of steam and the air was thin.

Then he saw what he was really looking for and sped up his horse.

At last they had found the temple of Emrys.

  
**\-----119 Merlin-----**

The old temple was situated on a remote hilltop, looking out towards the Eastern lowlands. It was made out of a light colored stone with pretty blue veins. Most stone surfaces were covered in lichens. Arthur broke the silence by remarking that it must have been built around the time the Romans abandoned these lands, and everything went into turmoil—when all the clans had tried to reclaim what the Romans had left behind without rulership or order.

The temple had no roof, but its walls stood high, keeping out most of the winds. Merlin was glad for that because he was dizzy and nauseous with pain. Pale grasses and mosses had covered patches on the ground, wherever soil had collected. They passed through the Eastern port, descended from their horses and tied them to an old tree, which clung on to life in the corner of the temple in the dry earth with determination. A thick layer of clouds kept the sun at bay and cast a cool shade over the temple. Merlin treaded carefully, passing along the walls, and he held a hand to his side where another stitch tore through his body. There were a few windows, and through them he could observe the shape of the valleys stretching out below.

As he looked around, he observed that the walls were covered in reliefs, and he noticed that several statues were placed strategically in various parts of the open structure. Some of the reliefs depicted the Romans departing across the Southern seas. Others were carved out to reveal great battles. There were statues with hands pointing at others, in gestures that resembled magic being cast. Against the Western wall, looking down at them, stood a large statue with a stone crow perched on its shoulder. The figure was of a bearded man wearing a long cloak and a scarf, who looked down stately at anyone who stood before them. Arthur had paused and was staring up at it.

Merlin discovered more engravings; of a mother and a child, a man and woman touching each other’s hearts, people dancing, an old woman and a young warrioress. As the engravings ended, Merlin nearly ran into a large bust of a woman’s face that was almost featureless, but beautiful nonetheless. Merlin cocked his head, trying to imagine who she would be. On the plinth below the bust mosses had covered what could be an inscription.

When he reached out to touch the inscription, he felt a flash of something escape from his fingertips, and a flame appeared at the top of the wall of the temple, high above his head. He stepped back and looked up. A brazier without wood now had a fire crackling away happily, and it shone light over the temple grounds. Merlin blinked. Had he done that?

Arthur looked up as well and opened his mouth to say something. But before he had uttered a sound, they heard a battle horn and a heavy thudding rumble through the ground of an army on foot.

“Merlin, let’s move!” Arthur said.

They heard the steps echoing against the walls near the Western port. Then more footsteps were heard near the Eastern port. Suddenly, both ports were blocked by a horde of people. They streamed in from both sides, covered in furs and leathers and carrying arms. They wore bows and spears and crude axes and their hair and beards were braided.

Druids.

They had found the druids at last. If Merlin didn’t feel so wretched, he might have felt elated. As if out of nowhere dozens of them suddenly filled the temple and blocked any possible route for escape. Through the window, Merlin saw that many of them were gathered outside as well and were looking in through the windows. He suddenly realized that they were trapped. And they kept advancing.

Arthur stood beside him, touching his shoulder to Merlin’s. They both looked in opposite directions, facing the people that surrounded them. The fierce horde approached them and pulled them apart. Merlin felt dizzy with pain and could hardly keep himself standing. He cried out voicelessly for them to stop.

“Who are you?!” one of the older men shouted.

“He is just my servant! Let him go!” Arthur said, drawing his sword. In the corner of the temple, their horses whinnied in panic.

Merlin was pinned to the ground by burly warriors within seconds, with several spears pointing towards him. Arthur dodged their attacks and stepped aside, holding his sword up.

“Merlin!!” he heard Arthur shout.

One of the women pulled on Arthur’s cloak, revealing the sigil and growled, “This is Arthur Pendragon!”

“Kill him!” another man roared and swung his axe forward. Arthur defended himself but did not strike back.

“No, wait! I did not come to fight you!” He deftly kept a multitude of enemies at bay, without wounding anyone. Merlin looked at him from his spot where he was being pinned to the ground. He was so dizzy, suffering through the waves of pain flaring through him. His magic roared within, wanting to be released. He didn’t want to kill these people, but if they hurt Arthur, there would be no stopping him, with or without a voice. He soundlessly shouted Arthur’s name.

“Their armies killed both my sons!” a woman said. She, too, was armed to the teeth. She called out the names of her sons, and following that, several other men and women began saying the names of their beloved fallen family members and friends. They circled Arthur menacingly.

From the Western port, the crowds parted to make way for a very short, old woman, who kept herself upright with a sturdy old wooden staff, which was longer than she was. It was decorated with engraved texts painted in various colors, woven charms, crow’s feathers, and several strands of cloth. Her hair was white as snow and one of her eyes matched it. The other eye was a pale blue-grey and it regarded them shrewdly.

By now, Arthur had strategically backed himself up near Merlin again. When he saw the old woman, he lowered his sword onto the ground and held up his hands. Merlin squirmed in pain. He didn’t want Arthur to be unarmed, not now. With a flick of the old woman’s wrist, Merlin felt himself being lifted to his feet once more. Four pairs of hands kept him exactly where he was.

“You should not be here, defiling our temple!”

“I have come here in search of you,” Arthur said.

“Then you are a few men short, Arthur Pendragon. We do not stand down.”

“I have come here with exactly the right number because I do not intend to pursue you at all,” the prince said. Merlin regarded him uncertainly. He couldn’t tell whether his words had any impact. These people were prepared to kill.

“And yet, you have entered this sacred place with your affronting Pendragon armor. How dare you!” the old woman sneered. She pointed at Arthur with her long staff.

“I haven’t brought an army with me. I have laid down my sword. I will undo my armor if you want, in order to prove my point. Merlin, will you give me a hand?”

They were entirely surrounded by druids, men and women, young and old. Some were teenagers. Merlin observed them. Some of them had painted faces and tattoos. But these weren’t Picts. These were Western tribes, put together, united as one. Their shields were painted with the triskelion and the designs on their clothes matched what Merlin expected in these parts. His legs were shaking when he felt the hands remove themselves from him, and he was pushed towards Arthur.

He looked at the faces around him one by one. He didn’t speak nor pretend to want to speak. He simply looked at them, keeping his magic locked away though it was ready to burst out. The many faces in the ports, and by looking in through the windows, proved that there would be more druids waiting outside the temple. They could kill, they had killed. These were not people to take lightly. But they listened to the old woman, and they were curious.

He set his jaw and stepped towards Arthur, pushing a thumb under the prince’s chin to lift it slightly, before setting to work undoing the leather strap of his pauldron. He hoped that the gesture would be enough. He would fight them if he had to. He could do it.

The fire atop the temple wall, in the empty brazier, crackled on while Merlin deftly removed the pieces of armor. First the pauldron and vambraces came off, then the cuirass was lifted over his head, and his breastplate was removed together with his cape. Merlin undid the belt around his hauberk, and Arthur leaned down slowly to remove the chainmail over his head. The prince stood upright, vulnerable in his dark red gambeson, and Merlin put the belt back around his waist. The wind swept through their hair and whistled over the spearheads. Arthur held his chin high towards the woman and waited for Merlin to be done.

“Let this be proof of my wish to speak with you unarmed,” Arthur said at last.

A young warrior spoke up, “Why should we trust a Pendragon to begin with?”

“I am not my father,” Arthur said. He addressed the young man instead of the old woman. There seemed to be only a few hierarchies in place. “I know that the druids have always been part of these lands.”

“You have killed so many of us, not just our clans, but others too! Don’t listen to him, Wrenna,” someone shouted.

“That was when my eyes were closed. We need to look at the facts. Around us, bigger threats are coming from across the seas. The Saxons are coming from the South, there are invaders from the Western Isles, and in the East the Angles and Jutes are pillaging Kent.”

“You would call us savages right along with the peoples you just mentioned,” the old woman, Wrenna, said and her eyes narrowed.

From the corner of the temple, one of the horses whinnied. Arthur looked at the old woman and when he spoke, he kept his voice steady. “Like I said, I am not the same person as my father. I have bargained with other nations for peace, instead of war. I have spoken with the Sarmatians to join our cause, which they have. I ride one of their horses today. You will see that its armor is theirs.”

“How do we know that you haven’t stolen that horse during one of your conquests?!” a man spat.

“Four of our Sarmatian friends are situated at the Inn of Talgarh, they will vouch for everything I have said.”

A hubbub broke out of people unwilling to believe the prince’s words, but Wrenna lifted her hands and at once her eyes glowed gold. A crow cawed loudly nearby and Merlin had the distinct feeling that she was communicating with it somehow.

“He speaks truly about Talgarh,” the woman announced at last. She had seen it. Some of the druids lowered their weapons, but others were not sweetened by these words. Wrenna spoke up, “Camelot is a nation of conquerors. You are always training new knights, and you have abolished magic, the same magic which is sacred to these lands. I cannot abide it!” The others agreed loudly and stomped on the ground, thudding their spears against the ground in agreement. Some of them shouted wildly in agreement in yelps and cries of elation.

“The only way to ensure that Camelot and the druid clans can hold onto these lands is by creating a safe haven for our children and our children’s children. We can only achieve this by standing together,” Arthur said. “I know it is a direct opposite of my father’s reign. He is still king, but he doesn’t know about my views. What I am asking is for you to ally with me when I am crowned.”

“Who says you will live that long?” a burly warrior remarked.

Merlin bit down his pain and stood between Arthur and the burly man, glaring at him.

“Who’s he then? You haven’t said a thing! Got something to hide?”

“Listen to me,” Arthur interrupted. “I know that we have battled. And I will continue to defend myself against magic that aims to harm me or my people. But I will not stand in the way of magic when it is harnessed for good.”

Merlin stepped back from the vile man, who spat at his feet. He stood beside Arthur and looked at him, wishing he could speak, wishing he could tell everyone that the prince spoke truly and they did not have to doubt him.

“He’s right!” a young woman’s voice shouted.

Merlin searched the crowds for the person who had spoken. That voice…

From among the horde a young woman stepped forward. She came to stand next to Wrenna and took off the hide from her head. Merlin recognized her at once.

“Brigitta!” Arthur said looking startled and amazed. “You are a druid?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Wrenna said. “She is a Jute. But she lives with us now, her magic aids us.”

With a spark in her eyes, Brigitta raised her spear to gather attention to herself and shouted, “Prince Arthur Pendragon speaks the truth because next to him stands a sorcerer!” She looked at Merlin and gave him a single nod.

Merlin wished that he could tell her what she had really done. She had openly revealed that he had magic, while standing next to the Prince of Camelot. He swallowed the lump in his throat. This was terrible. They could lose everything. Merlin saw that Arthur frowned at her, but he also knew that the young woman had done exactly what Arthur had bade her to; she had traveled far and applied herself usefully. He couldn’t really be angry with her. After all, they also hadn’t told her that he was the Prince when they let her go. His whole body was on the edge of what he could handle and he thought that he could fall into a panic.

Wrenna looked up at Brigitta with her one good eye. “You know these men, Brigitta?”

“They rescued me,” she answered simply.

“Who are you, boy?” Wrenna prodded Merlin with her long stick.

Arthur held up his hands, trying to keep the old woman at bay without being aggressive. “Alright, I have never told anyone this. The truth is that magic has always been at the heart of Camelot, and still lives there today, albeit in the shadows. Merlin has my complete protection.”

“That means nothing as long as Uther is alive!” someone shouted.

“We should kill them right here! Death to the Pendragons!”

“Prophecies be damned!”

The people all began to shout things at the same time. It quickly turned chaotic. Brigitta pointed at Arthur and shouted, “He spared my life knowing that I have magic!”

When Wrenna lifted her long staff and called the attention to herself, the voices died down. “Give us one good reason to believe you! Why should we not take our own future in hand?”

Arthur put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and squeezed. With his free hand he touched the bottom of his chin. Everything would be alright, Merlin understood. But he didn’t know what Arthur was planning. He looked at him curiously, nervously, dizzy, and wrecked.

“Because his other name is Emrys.”

Merlin gaped at Arthur and stared at him with wide round eyes. He couldn’t speak, but his surprise was obvious. A gasp went through the crowd.

Arthur knew.

Arthur had _known_? For how long?

Why had he never said anything? He searched Arthur’s eyes for answers.

Arthur smiled at him. “It is true, is it not? It’s you, it was you all along.” Arthur’s hand squeezed his shoulder firmly and Merlin thought it was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

An impatient roar began when people started to talk. Wrenna said, “Speak up, Prince Arthur. You will not lie in this sacred place! This is the Temple of Emrys and we await his coming. If you deceive us, you will be damned.”

“He has lost his voice so he cannot speak for himself, but look at him. Look closely. He may not have a beard, or maybe not yet, but the statue with the crow is exactly his likeness. If you have walked this temple as you claim, if you have had known that he would come, then open your eyes. He has certainly opened mine.”

Merlin lifted his hands impatiently at Arthur, asking him a general question.

“You told me that there is a prophecy with our names in it. I figured it out when I understood that the name would not be ‘Merlin.’ Otherwise any sorcerer, good or evil, would know to target you, and might have done so already to try and prevent my reign.” Arthur tilted his head and looked at Merlin with a soft smile on his lips. “I didn’t put the final pieces together until some days ago. But everything is clear now. Manath’s prophecy, the Great Dragon, you, everything you are. Everything that you sacrifice day by day is for Camelot, for Albion, and for me. I know it to be true.”

Despite all eyes on them, Merlin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders tightly. He closed his eyes and held on for dear life, feeling Arthur hug him back. He didn’t care who would see. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes. Arthur knew that he was Emrys. He had known for _days_ , and he had brought him here. This temple. That was built for _him_. He had known it, or at least suspected it. He nearly forgot to breathe. The fact that Arthur had already seen his likeness in the statue, after having studied his face so closely, warmed his heart and he felt that he could overcome his pain.

At their gesture, the warriors stood down and watched. From the expressions on their faces, it was clearly beginning to dawn on them who it was standing before them. The Prince of Camelot almost forgotten, they all regarded Merlin now.

Wrenna was the first to speak. “The name we have heard, the stones we have guarded. Is it really you?”

Merlin turned to them all and looked at their faces. He rubbed his nose and nodded. Then he pointed at his throat.

“We are on a quest to find his voice and to understand the prophecy. I already know all about it,” Arthur said confidently.

“You know nothing,” Wrenna said.

“Yes, I do,” Arthur retorted with a frown. “I want to know more about what it entails, what it means for my life.”

Wrenna laughed at him with a shrill chuckle. Her voice teased him. “Then do you know, Prince Arthur, that this prophecy is not about your life but about your death?”

Merlin felt the lump in his throat return and he tasted bile.

Arthur’s large blue eyes rounded on him. “You knew this?”

  
**\-----120 Arthur-----**

His death. That’s what it was all about. His head spun with the very notion that this was the knowledge that was taught throughout generations. Everything started to fall into place. Why Merlin had taken so long to open up to him, and why he had that forlorn look on his face sometimes. He knew about Arthur’s death. He had known from the start that he would love him and then lose that love.

Merlin looked at him in desperation.

Arthur regarded him, numb with shock. “You never told me. You knew all along?” Despite his surprise, everything started to make sense. It was the reason no one had told him of this prophecy, not even any magic users, the reason the name Emrys had never reached his ears until recently. It had all been kept carefully stowed away from him. And Merlin had carried that burden.

Merlin looked down at his feet. His expressions told Arthur everything. He regretted that he couldn’t be open about it, but there was no way he could have told him. He knew that look, he had seen it so many times.

“It seems that you still understand very little,” Wrenna said condescendingly. “But if you wish for it, I can tell you what I know about it.” The old woman seemed to love the fact that she had this over him.

“No,” Arthur said.

All eyes were on him.

He turned to address her, the warlords, Brigitta, and the druid clans who had joined them here, and he spoke up, “I am not afraid of my death. I never was. I was raised to be a warrior from the moment I could walk. My day will come, and I am at peace with that. I only hope that when the day comes it is because I am serving my country, my people, and the other people of these lands. I can’t speak for Merlin, for Emrys, but I don’t need to know anything about that day. I will live my life making the choices I need to make because they are important.”

The people were quietly taking in his words, and Wrenna looked genuinely surprised.

He continued, “These lands have been cradles for the dead. I know we cannot forget those we have lost, and I do not ask you to. Traveling here, we passed by bodies in the swamps and carcasses in the mountains, and they are of our own people! What binds us is far bigger than our differences; it is these lands!

“We are all born here, we have fed and bled and brought children into this world on these lands. They are worth fighting for and not against each other, but against those who come across the sea to take it away. Our divided armies will never be able to stand up to them!

“And I know how some of the kings feel about your presence, my father included. But he is wrong in his stance against magic. And I know several of the nearby kings who are on the fence about magic, and they would follow my lead if I should bring it back. So, I stand here before you and I ask you. If I might reach the day that I am crowned King, and I ride down to meet with you, will you hear my plans to unify our people?”

Wrenna narrowed her eyes and held onto her staff with two knobbly old hands. She began her reply with a croaking voice, “I am surprised by these words. The elders need to talk amongst themselves. Follow me.” She pointed at Arthur’s gear and his sword and said to a young warrior, “Garulf, guard these.”

The old woman dismissed all the other druids from the temple except for the elders. Five elders, including Wrenna, stood and watched. As the people left, they only had eyes for Emrys. That’s who he was. Emrys. He had been Emrys all along.

That was why Roslyn had sought him out, that was why men like Godwyn feared this influence. Emrys was the one destined to bring about change. It was exactly like Merlin had said, without even realizing what he had said. He needed to bring about that change, and he hadn’t known where to begin. It had all been there for Arthur to pick up on. Emrys was a promise to reshape the world, even Balinor had said it.

Merlin leaned on him and Arthur supported him with an arm around his chest. “Are you alright?” Merlin was very unstable and Arthur was increasingly worried. “What can I do, Merlin, tell me?”

Merlin shook his head and in his dizziness he leaned a hand on top of an empty plinth to steady himself. That very instant they were bathed in light. Several more empty braziers lit up on top of the walls surrounding them exactly like the one that had earlier. Roaring fires sprung to life, using Merlin’s energy, wringing it from his body.

Wrenna gasped at the display and the other elders craned their heads up to look. One of the elders, a round, buxom old woman smiled at the light and nodded. The flames were bright and reached up high, whirling up in cyclonic gusts. Merlin wasn’t noticing, he held his other hand around his gut, his face twisted in pain.

“Merlin? I need you to let me know what you need…”

“He needs to use his magic,” Wrenna said. “Let him.”

As Merlin’s powers continued to flow into the stones, the thick mosses and lichens came away. One of the horses snorted and stamped. Merlin sank to his knees and gasped soundlessly in quick breaths. His expression was ecstatic and painful all at once. Arthur knelt beside him and kept his hands on him to support him, and whispered small words of encouragement to him.

The five elders surrounded them in a circle at the center of the temple and sat themselves down. The round woman turned to the large statue of Emrys and studied it. Merlin was still leaning against a wall, heavily in pain, and Arthur was beside him. He thought back to Olaf’s words to him. Magic had always been part of the world, and he would do well to accept that. This place proved all of that.

A broadly built elder man dressed in thick furs spoke up, “This meeting was foretold, it is why this temple was built here. The time of year was foretold too, just not when it would occur. So, each year, around this time, we come here to clean this place. Except not this time.”

As he spoke, Arthur noticed that more of the temple came away clean and the stones looked like new. Even the lichen were wiped away from the stones entirely. He had a feeling that Merlin wasn’t doing this voluntarily, but that the temple was taking this out of him.

An old, tall woman with gray hairs streaked with her original reddish wisps said, “We were told this moment would change the course for magic. We had always assumed it would be Emrys who would speak with us.”

“Unless any of you know how to restore his voice to him now that it’s been stolen by Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon, he will not be able to tell you anything.”

“We do not have that power,” the broad old man spoke.

“While I believe that you speak the truth, young Pendragon, I am not yet convinced that we should stand side by side,” another elder man with a collection of long blond braids said with a puzzled look on his face. “Emrys can still not speak.”

Arthur stood up and faced them. “I cannot return here again to offer you any more terms. This is the hour of truth. I am here with my offer before you, and it is all I have.” He lifted his hands. A bell rang and Arthur turned around.

Merlin looked pale and exhausted.

“Merlin?”

Merlin was mouthing a word in his direction and stepped away from the plinth as last. The fires restored themselves to normal, space out evenly on top of the walls that surrounded them, fueled by no wood to sustain themselves. Instead, there was a light to his eyes.

“I don’t understand, what is it you need?”

Whatever it was, Merlin mouthed it over and over again. He took Arthur’s hands and squeezed them. Even as he tried to emphasize the word, Arthur didn’t understand. “A what?”

The elders looked on curiously.

Then an echo started, far away in the corners of the walls. The echo rumbled in waves and became louder, starting to form a word. Merlin kept mouthing it, hoping that Arthur would understand at last. The echo repeated itself, ‘A-ah, Ahon, Aah-on, Aha-on…’ and it became louder and louder. The elders gasped as the word ‘Avalon’ formed again and again. Arthur recognized it as being Merlin’s voice. It echoed through the temple, loud and urgent.

“Avalon?” Arthur asked.

Instantly the echoing sound was gone again. Merlin nodded vehemently and his blue eyes pleaded at him.

“Avalon? That is the answer?”

Merlin nodded again.

Wrenna eyed them curiously. “I am High Priestess for this clan, and I have never heard the walls speak to me. You must truly be Emrys. Prince Arthur has the right of it. But Avalon is a sacred place, you can’t just go there.”

Merlin nodded to her with raised eyebrows. The color had returned to his cheeks and he looked more energetic than before. Arthur thought he looked alive, more so than usual. The only time he had seen him this vibrant was when he had been battling Brigitta. He stared in admiration.

“You’ve already been?” Wrenna asked.

Merlin holds up two fingers.

“Twice?” she asked in surprise. “This place is not intended for the living. Well, tell me, who is the Lady of the Lake for you?”

Arthur watched as Merlin escaped his hold and walked around. He lifted his hand, asking the others to follow him.

All the elders got up and followed Merlin back to the Eastern port of the temple, where the reliefs decorated the walls. He energetically pointed at the face of the mother, the lovers, the old woman, the warrioress, and many others. He walked past all of them and Wrenna followed all of his gestures. Arthur looked at all the figures as they had been crafted one by one. He wasn’t certain what this meant. Merlin urged them to come and look at the bust of the beautiful woman who looked like everyone and no one at the same time. His slender fingers stroked the statue’s cheek and he let out a deep, soundless sigh. Arthur thought she looked like Morgana.

“She is all of them?” the man with the long braided hair asked.

He nodded.

“Do you know the way?” Wrenna asked.

Merlin looked around him and tried to figure out the direction of the sun behind a thick layer of clouds, he looked at the lands that were visible from the mountain’s high rises. He frowned and shook his head.

“Bring me to your horse,” the old woman said at last.

Instead of looking at Royse, which Merlin had pointed out, the High Priestess looked at the Sarmatian beast, who eyed them all curiously.

“Where did you get this beast?”

Arthur shifted uneasily. “It was a gift from a Sarmatian warrior, I believe he was mortally wounded by the Saxons. I have never known the man’s name, nor that of the horse.”

“What do you call the horse?”

“Thorunn,” came Arthur’s reply.

“That name is wrong. His real name is Hengroen,” Wrenna stated.

“It means ‘Old Skin,’” the old man with the thick furs said.

“Or ‘Old Shit,’ depending on the dialect,” the round woman said with a grin.

Wrenna continued, “He has seen many battles and he is comfortable with your presence. He will ride with you to war, Prince Arthur.”

“Hengroen?” he asked. The horse looked up at him and nudged his cheek. “Will he sire offspring?”

“Most certainly.” Wrenna smiled. “And he will lead you to Avalon. I have shown him the way.”

“Then we are in agreement?” the tall woman asked. The other elders nodded their assent.

“We will wait for your coronation, Prince Arthur. We will not be your people, but we will be your allies.”

“That is all I seek,” Arthur replied. “You may stay on Camelot soil to avoid Godwyn’s persecution. Make friends in these regions, let no word travel Westward, and in time I will see us united against the invaders.”

“So it will be,” Wrenna agreed and her eyes turned watery. With a wobbly chin she looked at the other elders and to Merlin she said, “I never knew it would still happen in my lifetime.” The old man wearing the furs put an arm around her in support, while the other elders called the rest of their clans back into the temple.

Arthur looked at Merlin wordlessly as they stood next to their horses. He tried to read what was on his face, but whatever Merlin was thinking about, he was miles away. With a single gesture, he touched him under his chin. “Everything will be alright.” He wanted to say more, he wanted to tell him how much he loved him. How proud he was of all that Merlin had done. To his surprise, when Merlin looked at him, he saw the pride that was directed at him, accentuated by the line under his cheekbones and the glint in his eyes.

They departed within the hour. They said goodbye to the five elders and to Brigitta. One of the bulky warriors who had given Arthur a hard time came to talk to him personally. “We have heard your words. You are a man that I would follow into battle. And so will the rest.” The other warriors mumbled in agreement, and Arthur had his armor and his sword returned to him.

“We’re going to Avalon,” Arthur said in wonder.

  
**\-----121 Merlin-----**

Merlin hadn’t felt this good in days. Although he still didn’t have his voice back, his magic was drained from him. It left him free to consider his own thoughts for the first time in ages. He rode on Royse and Arthur rode on Hengroen. Hengroen, that was his name. It had to mean something that the druids knew his name, of that he was convinced.

He felt elated too that Arthur was the one who had called out the hour of truth. At last he knew that he was going in the right direction. Back to Avalon. It gave him confidence. He also thought back to Morgana’s words, ever helpful on their days of departure. He needed water. He still did. He needed Avalon and the Lady of the Lake. Despite the push of magic beginning to strain inside of him again, he felt good about their trip.

The Temple of Emrys had been the most important turnaround in his life. He had stood beside Arthur, as prince and sorcerer, and they had shown the druids that Camelot would return. He hoped that word would spread, but at the same time he hoped that it wouldn’t. It was risky. The druids would understand the risk; they would not want Arthur to perish under these conditions because Uther’s wrath would be the largest fury they would ever encounter.

He glanced sideways at Arthur who looked mighty pleased with himself. The druids had offered them food for their journey and Merlin thought that Arthur had eaten perhaps a little too many of the rolls stuffed with sweet fruit. When Arthur glanced in his direction, Merlin grinned.

They sped down the slopes without direction. Hengroen was confident and although he was not as fast as Royse, they kept a steady pace. Occasionally, they passed other travelers and salesmen, but they paid them no regard. They stopped at a small fair where children were performing acrobatic stunts and left the rest of their sweet rolls with them.

Merlin’s heart thudded fast and he wasn’t certain if that was what brought it on, but the sick feeling started to return before the sun had even set. He tried to keep it down, push his magic to coil within himself, but it wouldn’t do so. He tried to clear the path for them, as he had done upon Kilgharrah’s attack on Camelot, and that helped for a while. Soon he was fighting the stitches through his body again, worse than before.

“Merlin?”

Merlin stopped using his magic and looked at Arthur with worry.

“It’s starting again, isn’t it?”

Merlin slowed his horse and Arthur did the same. The beasts puffed and snorted. Arthur looked extremely worried.

“Did it not help, at the temple?”

Merlin nodded. It certainly had. The powerful surge had taken all that was pent up within him. He hadn’t realized that he had ever gone that long without using magic in some shape or form. It made sense, he wasn’t just a sorcerer, he was born with magic. He was magic. He couldn’t keep everything pent inside. Everything was out, everything had to get out. The secrets, the hiding, the prophecy. Even Arthur’s death, Emrys as savior of the druids, and the unification of Albion were now known. There was almost nothing pent up. Except his magic.

They rode on more slowly and the stitches became more intense. He felt like he was being eaten up on the inside. He tried to play with whatever he could, but he was too scared to do anything noticeable in case they were seen. Perhaps now more than ever, they would have to keep their patience and ensure that Arthur was crowned king. There was still every chance of things going wrong, people finding out, Uther’s possible discovery and persecution.

When they at last arrived at the lake that Merlin recognized to be Avalon, Hengroen stopped. He wasn’t exactly certain how they had gotten here, but the magical pull was the same as before, and it was strong. It suffocated him, now that his magic was pent up, unable to truly reach out to it. He began to slowly fall off his horse. He couldn’t help it. He expected the ground to meet him, but instead strong arms held him so that he wouldn’t get hurt. He heard faint shouting in the distance. His name.

“Merlin? Merlin!” Arthur shook his nearly unconscious form. Merlin opened his eyes and frowned. “Are you hurting again? What should I do?”

Merlin nodded and pointed weakly at the water.

“Go to the water? Alright.” He lifted Merlin into his arms as if it was no problem at all, as if they hadn’t just ridden for days, and he carried him close to the water’s edge. “On the shore, or into the water? What do you need, Merlin? Stay awake… please?”

Merin pointed downwards and Arthur lowered him to the water’s edge, the lake water lapping at the hem of his jacket.

“Do you need to use your magic again?”

Merlin smiled.

Something glowed.

  
**\-----122 Arthur-----**

Merlin was weaker than he had anticipated. He thought that the burst of energy at the temple would fix everything, but it hadn’t. It had only temporarily taken away the urgency for him to use his magic. Now it seemed to be back with a vengeance. The air around him felt thick, and he thought perhaps that was the cause. He looked down at Merlin’s pained expression and his heart bled for him. He couldn’t lose him, not now. Not after everything they were just beginning to build up. Not when at each turn he had tried to do the right thing.

“Prince Arthur?” a voice whispered over the lake’s surface.

He hadn’t even seen her arrival. A brilliant form hovered above the water. She was beautiful and fearsome at once. When his eyes adjusted to the amount of light radiating off her shape, he thought for a moment that he saw his mother. But it wasn’t. He knew who she was.

As if by instinct, he held Merlin more tightly to himself, cradling his shoulders onto his thighs, while the wet soil at the lake’s edge drenched his breeches. This was the Lady of the Lake, the woman Merlin mentioned. She hadn’t sounded so terrifying when Merlin mentioned her. Merlin had said he wanted him to meet her one day. And yet something inside him was deeply afraid of the otherworldly sensation that hung in the air.

“This places is not for mortals, Prince Arthur. This is the gateway to Avalon,” the voice chided.

He was so enraptured by the sensation of her magic, hanging thickly in the air that he needed to take a deep gasp to speak. “Please, my lady, I was sent here. I need to help him.”

“It is the hour of truth,” the lady explained, her voice at once a terrible echo and soothing and sweet.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

“You are here to learn about the prophecy?”

He looked down at Merlin and saw that he was still awake, regarding him with silent labored breathing. He was so scared that he would lose him. The woman was closer now and he glanced up at her with his head bowed. “My lady, I’m not asking for that. If you want to tell me, then I will hear it. But please, will you save him?”

“The prophecies have become vague of late, things are changing. Things that have not been seen before.”

Merlin licked his lips and lifted a hand, stroking Arthur’s cheek. Then he dipped his finger under Arthur’s chin and smiled. Everything would be alright, he said. Arthur shook his head, he wasn’t so certain. Merlin looked pale and ashen.

“Do you love him?”

He didn’t even look at the Lady of the Lake, instead he held Merlin up and told him almost immediately, “Yes. I was blind before I truly knew you.”

Merlin’s eyes darted between him and the Lady of the Lake, and Arthur saw that he was worried. Arthur didn’t care. This was who he was. The thick magic lapping against them from all sides felt suffocating and he knew that it would consume him if he wasn’t entirely himself. He had to be.

The whispering, roaring echo of the Lady’s voice said, “Throughout the ages, many seers have had the visions of Merlin and of King Arthur. Not all visions are the same. Things change. Some seers may be wrong, or they might not see it all. In each prophecy, one thing was always unanimously clear. Merlin loved his king.”

Merlin broke up in tears, as he clearly realized the deep truth of it. Arthur held him and rocked him.

“And there were many interpretations of that love,” the woman’s voice continued.

“I will do anything to restore Merlin to his rightful self. Anything you ask of me. He is my life.” He, too, felt the tears stinging his eyes.

“This lake holds a key of power. Cup your hands and offer it to him to drink,” she instructed.

Carefully, Arthur lay Merlin down and took his gloves off. He looked down at the water, it seemed like normal water to him. Surely, Merlin had drunk plenty of water over the course of the past few days?

“If your love is pure, it will undo the spell that is holding him back. It can only be done once, and your heart, Prince Arthur, will shape its content.”

He dipped his hands into the water and looked at the surface. It was the same as before. Then there was a glint of something, and he saw that as soon as his hands had formed a cup, the liquid turned golden in color. The rich, shining color reminded him of Merlin’s eyes as he performed magic. He stared at it in wonder. It glowed like the finest crown he could ever see, and it lured him in seductively. But he knew what he had to do. On his knees he moved to Merlin’s side, careful not to spill a single drop. Merlin somehow managed to push himself upright to sit, still wincing from the pain he was in.

“You once told me that you would not find anyone else this life or the next. That’s because I am yours, Merlin. This life, the next, and any others that may follow. I promise you that.”

Merlin held Arthur’s hand and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. He leaned down and drank the water from his hands. As he did so, he saw the color to Merlin’s face return.

“For as long as I am able, I will ensure this place is protected.” Arthur looked at the woman fearlessly and she bowed at him. At last he understood what it was. The Holy Grail. And he had offered it to Merlin. Whatever it meant, it was the consequence of the path in life they had chosen. And he believed in it.

“I see deep honor in you, Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin finished drinking and sputtered a cough. A cough that Arthur could hear. The first thing Merin said, with a groggy voice and a glint of gold still on his lips was, “I love you, Arthur.”

He couldn’t help himself, he grinned and burst out laughing like a maniac. His joyous laugh echoed over the lake surface. Then he leaned over and kissed his still-wet lips. He didn’t care anymore that they were seen. The Lady of the Lake knew the truth of it, all of it. He kissed him and poured all his love into it and he felt Merlin’s arms around him, warm and demanding.

“What is the meaning of this?” a voice suddenly broke through the silence.

The two broke apart in surprise at the sound of the Great Dragon’s voice. His imagery had been summoned by the Lady of the Lake, in a scrying circle on the lake’s surface. Now the dragon, too, had seen everything. He growled and snarled, as his glowing eyes glared at them with malintent through the magical opening created.

The Lady of the Lake wore a cheeky smile on her face and all at once she reminded Arthur of Morgana. Her echoing voice said, “Be quiet, Kilgharrah. It means that the Disir were right, and you were not. Their prophecy bears the highest truth. I have personally condoned Emrys’ voice returned through the waters of Avalon and Prince Arthur’s intentions. You must now submit to the new truth and the new future that has been created.”

The dragon roared, “I will not succumb to this!”

“The magic of Avalon is more powerful than that of the dragons. I want you to swear your allegiance, as you ought to do. Emrys is your dragonlord, and you have forsaken him. This has brought Prince Arthur to the gates of Avalon, where no mortal should ever be able to leave,” she said fiercely.

If Arthur clung slightly more tightly to Merlin during her angry outburst, Merlin didn’t mention it.

The dragon remained quiet for some time, and he was seen through the scrying surface swishing his head left to right, as if assessing the situation from different angles. Merlin had spoken to the beast, long before. Even Balinor must have spoken to the beast. He must see reason. Arthur said, “I asked of you that one day I might prove my worthiness to you. Will you be our ally, Kilgharrah?”

“Very well,” Kilgharrah said, though he sounded quite unhappy, “I swear it. I am surprised by these events.”

The echoing voice spoke up as the Lady of the Lake turned to regard Kilgharrah. “Very well, for your obedience you are rewarded. Prince Arthur and Emrys will receive a map to a dragon’s egg.”

“What?” Kilgharrah said, and Arthur saw his eyes open wide. “For all my knowledge, I did not know one existed.” His interest was piqued and his earlier rage seemed entirely forgotten.

“They will be tasked to find it.”

A parchment formed in Merlin’s lap out of thin air. “A dragon’s egg?” he said with a low, broken voice. He smiled at Arthur hopelessly.

“Please,” Kilgharrah said, “let me be part of this.” He eyed the Lady of the Lake with sincere reverence.

Arthur began to understand. If Kilgharrah wasn’t the last of his race, it would mean everything to him. Additionally, it would also mean that either Merlin would continue to be a dragonlord, or perhaps a new dragonlord would emerge. It made him wonder.

“You have sworn your allegiance, so yes, you will be a part of it,” the Lady said.

The dragon bowed in respect and humility.

Merlin rolled the map back up and tilted his head towards the Lady of the Lake. “My father…?”

The woman smiled at him. “He will reach Avalon in time. You must be patient.” The echoing voice seemed to tremble around them.

Merlin kept his eyes on her and eventually nodded.

Arthur regarded him. He seemed not to fear her at all. As he pondered about all that he had heard, he needed to know one more thing. “My lady, why is there more than one prophecy? I do not need to know what’s in them, but I want to know why.” The Lady regarded him with a small smile, and Arthur swore her eyes regarded him proudly. He wasn’t certain who he saw in that face, but it made him happy.

“Not every seer gets it exactly right,” the voice echoed across the water. “The Disir are very powerful, their vision is the most correct. Kilgharrah has made some mistakes in his vision. You will meet more seers on your path. Use their wisdom, Prince Arthur.”

“Does it mean our paths are set in stone?” Arthur asked. “Or do we lead our own lives?”

“Your paths are up to you. Anyone can be wrong,” the Lady of the Lake allowed. “Even the powerful ones.”

Kilgharrah looked away.

Arthur got up to his feet and held out a hand to Merlin, who was awkwardly sitting with the rolled-up map in his hands. “When I will one day rule this kingdom, it only makes sense with you by my side. So does my life. Whatever obstacles cross our path, I know that we will be fair and just and make Albion a great kingdom. You and me. Together. For all the days I have left, and all the days you have left, will you share them with me, my love?”

Ignoring the dragon’s surprised growl, Merlin smiled at him. “Yes, Arthur.” He grabbed Arthur’s hand and pulled himself upright. His blue eyes sparkled with love and mischief.

“It will be so,” the Lady of the Lake said. “But know that your promises have far larger consequences.”

“I understand,” Merlin said. “Everything that I am is his, and will be his. I know what it means now.”

She smiled at them.

Arthur helped Merlin onto his horse, and mounted Hengroen. He looked out over the lake again and both the Lady and the dragon were gone from sight. He put his horse into motion, back towards the Inn at Talgarh, and Merlin followed beside him, as always.

They would be great for Albion.

Together.

  
***


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roslyn and Manath

  
**\-----Epilogue: Roslyn and Manath-----**

This narrative contains the faithful retelling regarding Roslyn, the kitchen maid from Brooksten Castle, during the reign of King Galorian of Foltaig, and the events which led her to King Galorian’s murder at the tournament grounds of the royal castle in Camelot.

Copy of the Official Account by Prince Arthur Pendragon

King Galorian was struck down by his kitchen servant, Roslyn, with a small blade from the kitchens at Camelot, unmissed by Audrey, the chef, or any other staff. This happened on the final day of the tournament held in celebration of the defeat of the Birugderc, an ancient spirit, and the murder took place on the fourth day of Galorian’s visit. His staff were questioned and none of them bore witness to Roslyn’s preparations, nor to the attack itself. The only ones present to witness the event were Foltaig’s champion, Sir Carsen, and his squire, the king’s nephew Darren, Sir Bedivere, Sir Caridoc, my manservant Merlin, and myself.

In the days leading up to the event several household staff reported a strange behavior being exhibited by Roslyn, as well as that of two other kitchen maids, believed to be her friends. They have been questioned and did not know of any preparations for murder. The only account to be had is a story of personal vengeance against the suicide-death of her lover and fiancé Manath, who was kept as prisoner for many years at Brooksten—and which is alluded to as being directly influenced by King Galorian’s torture practices.

My personal dealings with Roslyn brought forward no suggestions of aberrant or wild behavior, nor to my knowledge has there been influence of any substance or magic. Her execution of King Galorian was however executed wildly, with nine deep stab wounds and a slash across his neck, which effectively targeted his organs and bled him out. She chose a moment when the king was mostly alone in his champion’s tent. She did not resist her capture or incarceration.

I believe Roslyn to be independently guilty of King Galorian’s death and her actions the result of a personal vendetta. She will be hanged until death on the royal courtyard for all to see.

Roslyn’s Account

I was born at Ceann Tòrr to Labhruinn and Doiryn and joined the household of King Galorian at the age of fourteen. I met the court advisor, Manath, a year later. He was a mystic from a druid clan originally from Eire, and his hair and beard were red. He could summon spirits, he could see what was to come, and he could drive the nixies away. He could also alter the course of battle. These were coveted skills for King Galorian. The household honored him. Galorian kept him as manservant. I was instantly in love.

In the times where having a court sorcerer was no longer fashionable, Manath held his station admirably. I heard him speak many nights with our nobles. He was very persuasive and this served Galorian very well. The king was a man who liked to play games, and enjoyed finding important weaknesses to exploit. I never understood why Manath humored him and when I asked him about it, his eye turned to me.

We spoke many evenings and I began to understand the sort of life he had. There was nothing about his life that was free of choice. Being born with magic meant choosing to use it; he needed to find the place that would be the most suitable for him in life. I did not understand until it was too late that he did not have any other options. The druid clans have been pushed back to Eire, and they are not welcome to cross the seas. The Picts are fierce, and will not trust a man raised in Foltaig to speak with them, even in their native tongue. This was his place. He had no other options. And in this, cruelly, he has taken me down with him.

As Manath’s power grew, and the people came to love him, Galorian’s overly suspicious nature and torturous humors became apparent. Until that time, only captured enemies from surrounding lands—foul, wild Picts and servants in grave error—had suffered this man’s torments. These came in the forms of mental and physical violation. He played his games with the people around them to find out who was disloyal. He unraveled their secrets. In the absence of a war, he created one in Brooksten. There was always conflict and mistrust.

Everything turned the day Galorian’s son died at age nine. He had a daughter too, but Galorian’s late wife strangled the girl when she was just three years old. Manath opened my eyes to the reality that the queen had saved her daughter from a fate worse than death. I could not believe it, but Manath knew what had happened to the young prince. And everything turned that day. When he threatened to expose this for all the world to know.

King Galorian had done his research well. He had asked Manath to provide him visions throughout the years. Manath, my poor Manath, was a powerful seer and he had many strange things to tell. He shared them with me as he shared them with his king. Our love grew as the trust Galorian had bestowed upon him waned. It seemed that Galorian was figuring something out, putting the pieces together. And he had made his preparations well, expecting Manath to turn on him. It took the death of the prince to make it happen.

He got shackled.

He got shackled.

I heard him scream.

The first year Galorian tortured him daily. Or as often as he could. Sometimes he simply spoke to Manath, other times he threatened him. The only blessing was that Manath had never told the king about me. He told me I would be his salvation. I never believed I could do anything for him.

The next years I spent in anguish each night, thinking about Manath. Sometimes we would hear news that Manath had made another confession or had offered another gift, and that Galorian felt lenient and would shorten the sentence. No one knew what the sentence was, and no one knew what it meant when Galorian said shorten. So, the court did not push.

Not everyone loved Manath. The fear against sorcery had spread across the lands. I was never afraid, but I understood. There was evil magic. In the drowning creatures that live in the sea, in the tricksters that lure us into the woods. But not my Manath.

I spoke to him through a crack in the wall to his cell. This existed in the storage unit. Our conversations were always short, but he told me what he could. He said he had nightmares all the time, and that his food was never enough. I couldn’t see him, but I feared for what he looked like. He kept saying that he would find a way out, and that his visions would help him. He kept believing, and it is the only reason he held on for so long in that dark cell.

Then came the death of my father, and I needed to travel home. Oh, it was the worst time of my life to be separated. I had told him through the crack in the wall but I had not received a reply. Was he sleeping? Was he dead? Was he angry or did he pity me? I did not know for six months until my mother was well enough and I returned to Brooksten. I sought him out as soon as it was safe. The first thing I heard him say was that he forgot what the sun looked like. But now that I was back, he knew at least what it felt like.

This was the fifth year of his captivity.

The shackled hurt him each day. They were special, made to capture a mystic like him. Meant to inflict pain and burning. But he had found a way to deal with it—I’m not sure how—and he said that his visions were becoming stronger. That’s the first time I heard the name. Emrys.

Emrys is another mystic, but more than that. He is a promise. Emrys would make everything right for Manath and others like him. Manath had come to see that there was a great foretelling. When the druids raise him up, when the lords embrace him, at last Manath could be free.

For the first few weeks when he started using that name, he did not speak of anything else. He did not answer my questions, or respond to my tears. I feared I was losing him, that he was finally breaking. I have no idea how he held on for this long, in the eternal darkness where day and night blended together. Our love was growing thin, I couldn’t keep doing this.

Galorian started to forget him over the years, only visiting him when he was either brutally displeased, or when he was deliriously happy. Both temperaments were equally dangerous. Manath would suffer. For all those years, Manath had kept himself together, I feared the breaking of his spirit when Galorian started raping him. There was nothing anyone could do. If I started seeking help, I would be found out and I would die. Manath kept telling me not to do it because I would be his salvation.

For a while he lost his mind completely. He told Galorian about Emrys, he told him about all the dreams without realizing who he was talking to. Sometimes he told Galorian he loved him, though, from the other side of the crack in the wall, I knew he was talking to me. I knew he was telling me, so that I could remain strong. What sort of man would I have, if Manath was ever released? How could he live after all these years in the darkness?

But Manath told me, all he really wanted was to dream of the future. He no longer thought about getting out. Sometimes I didn’t know if he loved me still. I knew he wanted to. But it was hard. He was broken. The final year, I found a glow worm and I pushed it through the crack in the wall. He said it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. That night he told me what would happen.

I would travel to Camelot and I would find Emrys. I needed to find him. Whatever my chores were, my tasks, whatever the danger. And I needed to bring Emrys something of his. A gift. If that happened, everything would resolve. I had no idea what it meant. But since the name meant so much to him, I planted it in my head.

The last few months his attitude changed. He was eager for me to listen to his plans, but they changed all the time. He gave me his braid, which was going to be his gift. I hid it in my special lockbox until the time I needed to give it to Emrys.

Then he asked for the knife.

I questioned him. I demanded of him to know what his plans were, but he kept saying he knew what he had to do. He had seen it. And all would become clear in time. Everything would unfold as he knew it would, if only I would get him the knife.

I took twelve weeks to get it to him. Because I knew.

Manath was not getting out.

He was dying. He had seen his own death and he was ready. He had told me everything he knew. Which was very little. I didn’t know who I needed to find, apart from a name, or what I needed to do, apart from offering a gift. I knew where, Camelot, but that was a big place. I couldn’t do it.

But… when he told me he loved me, that he always had, I knew I would do anything he had ever asked of me.

It took the king two weeks to find out Manath was dead. Still, whenever I could, I went down to listen at the hole in the wall. Listen if I could hear him breathing, if I perhaps had been mistaken, or if he was somehow missing—that he had freed himself.

When Galorian put him on display for all to see, even his young nephew, I did not recognize what it was. His form was no longer anything I knew as Manath. He lived on in my memory always as the man at court who spoke to the nobles and the guests.

That is why I did it. Why I killed the king. That is why I followed every step until I realized that nothing was going to happen if I didn’t do it. I took a small knife, similar to the one Manath had used, and I did it. I can’t go on, not anymore. I’m not brave like Manath. No, I’m not. He chose his fate in conviction of what is right. I chose mine in the conviction of all that is wrong.

I only hope he was right about Emrys. And that one day he will save Manath, when the druids raise him up and the lords embrace him. Manath will be free.

I am ready to die.

  
***

Merlin placed the parchments and the locks of hair back into the glass box and placed the box on the window sill. Then he wiped his cheeks and let out a deep sigh. Upon their return to the castle, he had finally had time to read it. Now, he understood.

He knew where Arthur had found his wisdom regarding prophecies, up and including his denial to hearing his own. And this, too, was where he had learned about what the influence of Emrys meant to sorcerers everywhere. It all made sense. And this was why Arthur had chosen to be his voice, to speak when he could not.

The world in which Roslyn and Manath had lived was a distant past. The dawn they would face from their seat in the tower overlooking Camelot was a different one. Merlin felt reborn into it, strong and refreshed.

He wondered briefly about Morgana’s note that had arrived. She had made her choice and had left. He worried, but not overly much. Kilgharrah might be wrong, after all. That was the most important thing Arthur had taught him, and perhaps he should have seen it sooner. He could not focus on every piece and try to undo it. It would not work. He could have learned this when the Birugderc attacked or after Roslyn’s words. He could have understood it after Morgause’s rejection of Arthur’s destiny, as well as Balinor’s miscomprehension of it.

No one, no matter how great, can know their own destiny. What was laid out through prophecy would unfold as it would. And Merlin had made his decision. He would choose between the paths laid out before him, and not consider creating or destroying the future that was promised. He would not lie in wait of his own fate. The world was his and Arthur’s to shape. That was what Arthur had taught him.

That there was every reason to hope.

***

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to Lizlybear, who got me into the show and who I’m certain will consume my 5-month struggle in a matter of hours. 
> 
> Most of the geographical locations are based on the [Map of Camelot by Versaphile](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/16736179), which I have adopted with deep appreciation of their dedication and high level of accuracy. 
> 
> Check out more amazing artwork by [Sexgenius](http://sexgenius.tumblr.com/) and be sure to tell her how great she is! 
> 
> With an extra note of thanks to Wwrackspurts, Weatherfeather, and Knowmefirst who were involved with the project but their IRL took over, as well as to Foxi who had the same. Just to be sure, my full respect goes out to all those involved, because IRL just happens to us sometimes! 
> 
> I might continue fixing Season 3 and onward if this turns out to be a success. 
> 
> Sources: [Medieval jokes](http://www.medievalists.net/2013/08/30/medieval-jokes/), [Seven Whistlers](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whistling).


End file.
